A/N: Welcome back once again! I don't own the characters or premises from Star Trek, Enterprise or otherwise. No profit made, no infringement intended. This is a sequel to my stories Season Five and Season Six, and is the final season of my extended universe project. There will be twenty-five episodes, all stand alone stories, set between March 2160 and January 2162. Our pairings are ATP, Troshi, Malcolm/OC, and P/C. I'll be updating weekly, as usual. The founding of the Federation and Starfleet Academy will be the main literary threads. If you need a refresher from the past two seasons, you can find both on my profile!

This is an exposition chapter for things to come, namely a lot of scenes that didn't make the cut for the finale of Season Six. After so long writing the Romulan War, I'm looking forward to returning to planet-of-the-week stories! I did promise a spectacular end to both Harris and Pascal, and we'll be getting both in short order.

Next time: I really have no excuse for this, except that I've been holding this plot bunny for a long time and couldn't justify sticking it in the middle of the war. It's inspired by two different standout TNG episodes: 3x04 Who Watches the Watchers, and 4x13 Devil's Due.

Season Seven

Episode One: And the World Keeps Beginning

The day before they were due back in San Francisco, the Reeds found themselves double-timing it up the hillside on an anonymous street in the suburbs, dodging pedestrians and bikers at every turn.

His parents' place had been remarkably difficult to find; though his mother had been keen on providing them an address, he'd never been there before, not even after more than a decade. The shuttle had been overbooked and poorly ventilated, and by the time they touched down in Kota Bharu, Mirella was none too pleased. Together they tried their best to calm their daughter down, but there was nothing they could do about the noise, nor about the fact that they'd had no other option but to bring a three-month-old on a journey across multiple continents.

At first, he'd refused to go at all, citing his father's gruff nature and loveless attitude and blatant xenophobia, but with their third wedding anniversary in the recent past and a new baby, they had very little excuse to dodge them for the entirety of leave. Alira laid out the facts for him the best she could in the hovercar after the Archers' wedding reception, and he'd listened, before coming to the conclusion that the one thing they needed was time to work up their nerve.

And so they didn't go to Malaysia immediately, but Scotland, where they checked into an inn on the rolling hills of the Highlands. If the locals were curious about the Englishman traveling with his Denobulan wife and hybrid child, they didn't ask questions, and for the next three weeks, they traversed the streets and the countryside, content to remain in their own private world.

But that couldn't last forever - eventually, Malcolm answered the messages piling up from his sister Madeline, dismayed to find that they numbered in the dozens. She was just as eager to see them, namely because it had been a good four years since he last brought Alira home for Christmas, and because if they showed up at once, they just might be able to get their parents through the shock together.

Apparently Madeline had finally eloped with her girlfriend of more than a decade, which she was sure was going to come as a surprise to them, seeing as they'd never even heard of her. He found himself partially to blame for that - the one time he'd brought a partner home from STC, it hadn't gone over well, and ended in Malcolm rejecting a marriage proposal. It was just a matter of fact that Stuart Reed never made an effort to learn anything about his children, as they were constantly ridiculed and put down for daring to express the slightest bit of individuality, even into adulthood. No, Malcolm didn't care to have him in his daughter's life, but because his mother stubbornly refused to leave the man, he acquiesced to his fate, picked up his communicator, and made the most difficult call of his life.

Despite how he'd been imagining their visit, all clouds and thunder and dark skies, Malaysia was quite beautiful, with colorful buildings lining the streets. Every bare wall seemed to be decorated with murals or advertisements or religious iconography, and the people were some of the kindest he'd ever met. More than once, Alira insisted on stopping for directions, only to be redirected down another side street, bringing them ever closer to the horizon where the ocean was calling their name.

Depending on how things went, Malcolm decided he just might end the night by walking straight into the waves and never coming back.

Miri cooed, drawing him out of his reverie. For the moment, their daughter was bright-eyed and alert, and was doing an impressive job of trying to wiggle her way out of her harness. She made a brave gambit for Alira's ponytail. She deftly dodged her, then seized her chubby little fist and kissed it. Over the past few weeks, Miri had developed quite the strong grip, something he'd been reminded of on the shuttle ride over, when she grabbed his nose and refused to let go, smiling all the way.

They were crossing over into a new section of the city where the homes were farther away from the sidewalk, their porches hidden by tall grasses and wavering palm trees. Each was built in a distinct, sprawling colonial style, speaking of a long-ago occupation. In their golden years, his parents had moved back to live near friends, and had spent a fortune in remodeling, if the white picket fence and enclosed sunroom were any indication.

Of course, not enough could be said about the young woman standing by the gate with her back to them, head bent down as she studied the PADD in her hand.

All it took was her name, and Madeline turned, treating them both to that famous snaggle toothed grin that Alira knew all too well. Her previous mission abandoned, she thundered across the pavement towards them, and though her big brother was none too keen on public displays of affection, she wrapped him in a tight hug.

"You've had me scared," she confessed, rubbing his back in tight circles. "I honestly thought you were going to bail."

"Don't worry Mads, there's still plenty of time." Over her shoulder, Malcolm eyed the porch and the swinging screen door, relieved to find them both empty.

She pulled back, offering him a wide-eyed, horrified expression. "You wouldn't leave me alone with just the two of them," she cautioned, as if he hadn't done so for nearly every holiday and birthday since he left the household over two decades ago. While neither were particularly fond of their family, Madeline was uniquely qualified to diffuse the tension that usually flared around the time their father was well into his third drink of the evening.

For a time, they'd shared a flat in London just to get away from them, and while she went to uni, he wandered aimlessly around the city, attempting to find his one true calling and failing miserably. He hadn't really understood what he was meant to be doing until Starfleet, and never knew what he wanted in life until a short few years ago. Speaking of which…

"Why hello there, little one," Madeline crooned, kissing Alira on both cheeks and then reaching for the baby. She took one good look at her, the enormous blue eyes and soft down of dark hair that was only just starting to fluff into a curl, and practically melted into the sidewalk right then and there. Bouncing her on her hip a few times for good measure, she concluded: "Well, it appears that she's taken after her mum in the looks department. Thank goodness for that."

"Be nice to your brother!" The reprimand came so swiftly that they all almost missed it, but that loud, distinctive voice was unmistakable. As one they turned to find a well-dressed woman double-timing it up the sidewalk towards him, her hair immaculately curled and coiffed, her smile practically blinding.

There wasn't a single doubt in Alira's mind. This could only be the family matriarch, and the moment they'd love since dreaded was at hand.

But Mary didn't turn her nose up at her, pass some nasty comment, or refuse their affection at all. Rather, she embraced her son, patting the top of his head and squeezing both of his cheeks with force, fussing over him in the way only mothers could.

"It's about time you've come to visit," she scolded. "Look at you, just wasting away to skin and bones. We'll need to fix that."

"Mum, this is…"

"My beautiful daughter-in-law," she interrupted, throwing her arms wide and pulling her into the wall of her chest. Fortunately, Alira had seen it coming a mile away, and tried her best to reciprocate. "Thank you for all you've done. Just between you and I, Stuart was fully convinced he'd never settle down. We thought he might…"

"Aren't you going to say hello to your granddaughter?" Madeline stepped close, eyebrows raised, keen to interrupt that train of thought before it could reach its inevitable conclusion. Her demeanor changed on a dime, and she swiveled around, scooping her up and immediately dropping a kiss on her forehead.

"Alira dear, those pictures you sent me don't do her justice. She's darling, simply darling!" After being passed around, Miri was starting to squirm. Malcolm stepped forward into her line of sight, ready to intervene should the situation deteriorate. "My, it's been ages since I've held a baby."

As if on cue, Miri reached out and curled her fist around her little finger, and she beamed back, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Did you know I've been shopping? There's a whole closet full of toys and little dresses for you, not to mention all the things I've kept from when your father was young. We've got so much to catch up on, you and I."

Alira cast a nervous glance back at their suitcases, which he'd been lugging behind them all the way from the transport station. Though, if he'd inherited even half of his stubbornness from her, there was no point in arguing.

"Mum, if you want…"

"Where are my manners?" She clucked her tongue, then brushed past her daughter and surged towards the house, leaving them in the dust. "You three must be exhausted, let me fix you a drink!"

Alira stood there in shock for a fraction of a second before joining them. Mary was a whirlwind, a firm disciplinarian and a kindred spirit all in one. Somehow, she hadn't expected anything less.

Slowing down ever so slightly, Malcolm bent his head towards his sister, whispering furtively: "What about your better half?"

"Her meetings went over, and she missed her connecting shuttle in Beijing." She smiled apologetically. "I suppose we'll break the news when she gets here tomorrow."

Hopefully, they'd be long gone by then. A storm was already brewing, anxiety surging within him like a rising tide. It only worsened when they climbed the steps and passed through the screen door, finding a familiar figure standing in the foyer.

How many times had they stood like this, having been kicked out of the dining room during dinner to hash out their arguments elsewhere? How many times had he fallen asleep to his parents arguing, only to be jolted awake by the front door slamming? He didn't care to hazard a guess, but for now, it was all he could do to stand his ground and look him directly in the eye.

The way he kept glancing at his mother and sister, Malcolm could tell that he'd already been warned to be on his best behavior. Some months after the wedding, he'd told his father that if he wanted to have anything to do with any future grandchildren, he'd accept his marriage and everything that came with it. We can leave right now, he hoped his stubborn resolve conveyed, and he entirely meant that.

Malcolm wasn't sure what he expected in the way of greeting after not seeing his father for more than a decade, but it definitely wasn't a brisk handshake. Nodding curtly, Stuart stepped into the front room and disappeared. "Kettle's on."

That was it. No warm welcome, no exchange of pleasantries, not even an acknowledgement of his wife and daughter. Malcolm was incensed, and the fires weren't in the least bit dulled by Madeline's hand on the curve of his elbow. A pointed look, and she guided them in after him, leaving no chance for him to change his mind.

The morning passed uneventfully, their conversation lapsing from small talk to questions about their mission, which they tried to answer without revealing too much. All the while, his father stayed quiet, and seeing as Miri drifted off to sleep on his chest, Malcolm found himself a captive audience. It didn't take long for his mother to drag out the family album, showing them all means of awkward photographs from his teenage years and relaying every single embarrassing story in between.

At one point Miri woke up and began to fuss. Alira started to get up, but he shook his head, dipping out into the hall and out of sight.

In the bathroom, his daughter tried to wiggle away from him, but his diapering skills were well honed. Afterwards, he tickled the sole of her foot, and she huffed, that unique precursor to a laugh he'd heard so often as of late. As she grew up - though it was happening much too fast for his liking - Malcolm noticed her holding his gaze longer, smiling and moving her lips as she tried to follow along with words. He was starting to see awareness behind her eyes, and was convinced that she was going to be a brilliant little girl. She was just so perfect.

So why didn't her grandfather want anything to do with her?

As in on cue, Stuart appeared in the doorway, and he very nearly slammed it in his face before remembering himself. On autopilot, Malcolm kicked the diaper bag under the sink and lifted Miri into his arms, careful to angle her away from him.

"I was hoping you'd have a son," he confessed, as if that were any proper way to start a conversation.

"She's a Reed all the same," he countered. "See, there's that stiff upper lip."

The ghost of a smile darted across his features, only to vanish almost instantly. "I was wondering if the two of you have had the necessary conversations."

"Such as?"

"This world is no place for a child like this." There was a beat of tense silence, and Malcolm found himself thinking that he was lucky his hands were full. Otherwise, he'd be on the receiving end of a sharp upper cut. He'd only thought about it for years. "Terra Prime is recruiting once again, and this time, they're more brazen. Yesterday, when I was in the market, there were men handing these out."

"Dad…"

"Look, Malcolm," Stuart demanded, fishing a folded pamphlet out of his pocket and holding it up at eye level. He stubbornly refused to look at it, to give those hateful words even a moment of his attention. "There's rumors that Starfleet is trying to make the Coalition more permanent. People are upset, and they're also scared. If we take on more allies, we also take on their enemies."

For a split second, he thought about confirming the rumors and telling him about Prime Minister Samuels' plan for the United Federation of Planets, but held his tongue. Throughout their travels in the past few weeks, they'd received their fair share of dirty looks, and he couldn't say he blamed them. Earth was still healing following upwards of ten million fatalities due to nuclear attacks at the Battle of Sol, and everywhere they went, people were in mourning.

That didn't excuse whatever action they were planning to take, and he knew that. At the very least, he hoped Stuart knew that, but he still put his foot in his mouth, continuing: "I have no doubt that if those people had known who I was…"

"It's always about you, isn't it?" He exclaimed, expression incredulous as he finally let the anger that had been boiling away within him over the past few hours break free. His father had no idea what they'd been through in the field, from the death of nearly everyone Alira held dear, to the almost complete destruction of their relationship, their forced time apart, and a complicated pregnancy that almost ended in tragedy multiple times. "I can assure you, Starfleet Intelligence is more than aware of the threat, and I am perfectly capable of protecting my family."

"These aren't your garden variety extremists. This time, they're smarter, more well-organized…"

"I would kill anyone who tries to hurt my daughter," he asserted, though a small part of him latched onto the fear that statement generated and buried it deep inside. Everyone on the Enterprise during their first encounter with Paxton remembered his cruelty, and what had eventually happened to the Tucker baby. No, he could never let things advance that far. After all this time, he was certain in his ability to follow through. No mercy. No hesitation.

"And I just wanted you to know." Stuart's expression clouded into something indecipherable. In the sitting room just up the hall, the conversation had ceased, and he had the feeling they were listening in. "Because if it were me, I'd be doing more than keeping my ear to the ground."

"Like you've ever cared about anyone other than yourself," he shot back, and there it was, out in the open. Something warped and shattered irrevocably between them, and when he met his gaze, it was fraught with emotion unlike he'd ever seen.

"Is that what you think?"

He tried to reply, only for his voice to die in his throat. Swallowing thickly, he tried again. "If it's not the truth, you've done a poor job of showing it all these years."

"Son…"

"I will never," Malcolm began, agonizingly slowly, his voice scarcely a whisper. "I will never make her feel as worthless and unloved as you made me feel."

Suddenly remembering himself, he brushed past him, ignoring his stricken expression and returning to the parlor post-haste. The rest of the day passed them by without the displeasure of his father's company, and by the time they were safely ensconced within the guest bedroom, he was dangerously close to breaking down. Alira heard his concerns but offered nothing in the way of resolution, and for that he was grateful. When he woke in the early morning light, he was terrified to find her and the baby gone.

Stumbling out of the bedroom, he ran headlong into Madeline, who placated him with a quiet shushing motion, then guided him to the front of the house, where the doors to the sunroom stood wide open.

His wife was perched on one of the cozy armchairs, simultaneously nursing Mirella and a cup of tea. Across from her, his father was midway into an explanation of one of his antiques from wars in centuries past, if only to appeal to her intellectual curiosity as a former professor of military history who had long since abandoned the good life for the hostility of deep space. They were laughing and carrying on like old friends, and though they still had light years to go as a family, he was temporarily heartened by the gesture.

"It's funny, it's it?"

"What's that?"

"All this chaos," Madeline marveled. "And the world keeps beginning."

If he had been in a better state of mind, Valdore probably wouldn't have trusted Pascal at all.

His communique had reached him at the perfect time, in the nexus of hope and desperation where he just about would have believed anything. Simon had escaped the enemy fleet after three years under their protection, murdering the First Consul and fleeing to the Tau Ceti system, where it was anyone's guess what he was doing. Valdore, by contrast, had led the Star Empire to its most crushing and humiliating defeat in the course of their recorded history, and was determined to find a way out before he was forced to take the fall for all of them.

It didn't escape him for a moment that he was probably getting played just as Solan and T'Uerell and T'Leikha had been, but at that point, he had very little to lose. Two paths lay before him, one leading to certain death, the other to a slim chance of survival. So he took that risk and agreed to talk to his replacement, one Admiral D'Trex, and record a confession for the ages.

When the hatch to his quarters finally opened after three months in near darkness, he was so overwhelmed that he very nearly lost his battle to keep his emotions in check right then and there.

They led him - or rather, dragged him - to another dark room, where he was shackled to a chair and subjected to a blinding spotlight that rendered everything else invisible. There were people all around him, he could feel it, all seeking to know what had happened in the months leading up to the Battle of Cheron, all desperate to pin the blame on someone.

Valdore was more than willing to take the fall, provided Pascal's loyalists were all around them as he claimed.

"State your name for the record," a cool masculine voice demanded, and he obliged, closing his eyes against the light. He felt warm, drowsy, even as every nerve ending in his body was a live wire, electrified in knowing that he would soon choose his own fate. "Tell us what happened to Praetor D'Deridex."

"He was killed by a sleeper agent that T'Leikha kept as her assistant. She insisted her name was Sarva, but upon death we discovered her to be Lieutenant Rachel Garcia of Starfleet."

"And the Denobulan?"

"Commander Nieron of Infantry Special Ops. He came to us offering the command codes from the NX-05 Maelstrom, in exchange for unconditional protection during the invasion of Sol." At the time, he hadn't believed that the Coalition would protect them when much more high-profile targets existed, and Valdore didn't blame him.

"I understand he was captured by the crew of the Enterprise."

"That is correct. He made an attempt on the Praetor's life, just so he could see his betrothed once again."

"What did Taxa do?" The fact that they already knew her name was frightening, and meant they'd been digging further into his personal logs than anticipated. Valdore was starting to sweat.

"Turned him in, of course." He had admired her ruthlessness, even from afar.

"So what happened to Chairman Solan of the Tal Shiar?"

"He was killed by his half-sister, T'Pol. At the time, they had boarded Logistics Command to kill Pascal."

"And Dr. T'Uerell?"

"Shot by Captain Hernandez as she and that Andorian ran for their lives. They were taken prisoners, but managed to escape."

"In a room full of armed guards." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes," he replied cautiously. "T'Leikha failed to take action even when the threat was abundantly clear."

"But the soldiers were under your command."

"Did you know that T'Uerell was the one to send the telepresence units after that Vulcan transport?" He was blatantly off topic now, but unable to stop. "It was because of her that Starfleet was able to discover the neurogenic virus and reverse engineer a cure to liberate the Betazoids."

"And you expect the Senate to believe this was the only contributing factor?" The voice was closer now, and he could feel him leaning in close, his every word dredged with poorly constrained rage. When he didn't respond, he wound his fingers through his hair, forcing him to look into the light. "Do not insult my intelligence."

"Never, Admiral." Shifting to one side, he managed to activate the remote beacon in his back pocket, then held his breath, listening for the telltale sound of footsteps running towards him, but coming away with nothing.

That bastard.

"I think…"

"No, let me tell you what I think." He gestured to one side, and an unseen acolyte approached, disruptor pistol in hand. "The once mighty Admiral Valdore has fallen, taken up counsel with the enemy, and lost his mind in the process."

"Wait," he stammered, at last seeing the writing on the wall. "Let me die on my feet."

"You welcomed a traitor in your midst and let him run wild."

"I did no such thing."

"You continue to carry on with him, even after the signing of the treaty."

"He deceived me. He…"

"You are the reason our venture has failed," he accused, and he heard murmurs of agreement all around, coupled with the cold press of metal against his neck.

"We were doomed to fail."

"And you ensured it." The safety clicked off. "Once you are gone, your name will never again be spoken. It will be like you never existed."

He turned his head, determined to look him in the eye, and saw nothing but malice there.

It was the last thing he would ever see.

"Hoshi, have you seen my PADD?"

Her reply was nothing but a garbled shout, muffled by the bathroom wall and the roar of the hair dryer: "Your briefcase is on the table!"

"I already checked there."

"Couch cushions," she called out, and a flurry of movement caused a cascade of toiletries to go flying off the sink. Groaning and trying her best not to curse, Hoshi bent over to make some sense of the mess, striking her head on the countertop in the process.

"Careful!" Trip's warning came much too late, and he nearly took a spill himself, stumbling over a pile of toys stacked up in the living room. Falling to his knees, he reached down and rummaged for what he was looking for, coming away seconds later with a handful of breakfast cereal.

Par for the course, he reminded himself, then abandoned his mission and glanced underneath the couch, finding his missing PADD in short order.

Now he only needed to locate his boots, his pips, his communicator…

He heard a flurry of little footsteps coming up the corridor towards him, and he rose, plastering a big smile on his face. Sharing a tiny condo with his fiancee and his five-year-old goddaughter was a new challenge unto its own, even more difficult than anything they'd ever done during the Xindi conflict and the Romulan War, but no one could ever say that he didn't enjoy it. Though Natalie was long gone, a casualty of the Battle of Sol, her daughter Katie was a constant bright spot in their lives, even as their home descended further into chaos.

"I dressed myself," Katie reported, throwing her arms wide and spinning around in a circle.

Trip thought about letting her know that stripes and polka dots and neon green didn't belong together in an outfit, but she looked so happy he couldn't bring himself to dull her shine. Growing up, his own parents had encouraged him to embrace his creativity, so he'd been eager to do the same, letting her strum away on a toy guitar and sing at the top of her lungs and draw all over one of the walls in her room that they'd designated specifically for that purpose. It could always be painted over if they were to ever leave their little home in Sausalito, and her happiness was worth all the trouble in the world.

That didn't mean her transition had been an easy one - Katie had endured an unimaginable trauma with the loss of her mother, and she still felt scared on occasion, if their family visits to the therapist had told them anything. Her separation anxiety was fierce, usually resulting in her crawling into bed with them overnight. One day, she'd toddled off into a side aisle at the store and lost sight of them, resulting in a meltdown of epic proportions.

Gradually, they got her used to seeing only one of them at home, and twice, they'd left her at Admiral Cleary's home to play with his kids for more than an hour, only running back across the street when she became anxious. Now, with their return to duty, came the big test.

While Katie was due to start kindergarten in the fall, she was presently relegated to preschool, and they'd gone to great lengths to introduce her to her teachers, to show her that the play area was safe and that both of them would be in the next building over should she need them. Even though she'd been living with them only a month, Trip felt her pain like his own, and hoped she would have a stress-free day with the children of the officers stationed at HQ, that she wouldn't feel as scared as she had every single day leading up to it.

But he couldn't let her see him agonize over it, not for a second.

"Looking good, kiddo," he assured her, ruffling her hair as he stepped into the kitchen. "Want a PB&J?"

"No crust," she said, and he chuckled, as if he'd ever made them for her any other way.

The moment he opened the stasis unit, Hoshi rushed out of the bathroom, her uniform pressed and makeup painstakingly applied, all without a hair out of place. He was always in awe of how she managed to pull herself together in the span of minutes in the morning, considering it took two cups of coffee and threats of bodily harm to get him out of bed.

"I'll be interviewing potential professors most of the day," she reminded him. Though it took a little bit of digging in the cabinets, she found her thermos and filled it at their protein resequencer. "My secretary will have my schedule."

"Sure thing, Dr. Sato," he teased, reaching out to trace her pips. With the stroke of a stylus, his bride-to-be had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander and named the chair of the xenolinguistics department, just as he was to helm the development of the warp theory degree program from the ground up. The only difference was the Tasaki Memorial Engineering Wing was still under construction, and his office was just a figure on a blueprint, along with his assistant who wasn't yet hired.

She pushed his hand away and grabbed the butter knife he'd been using to spread peanut butter, licking it clean. "My first appointment is with a Denobulan gentleman who speaks all sixteen of their regional dialects. Have you ever seen a Denobulan in person, Katie?"

Fully occupied by her morning glass of apple juice, she shook her head.

"Oh, we definitely shook hands with one at the aquarium last week." He pressed the two slices of bread together, then deftly cut around the edges. "He was an old colleague of Phlox's. I swear, that guy knows everyone."

"Well, did you know they can blow up their faces like this?" Hoshi made a big show of puffing out her cheeks and crossing her eyes, earning a laugh. "If he's still around by the end of the day, I'll be sure to introduce him."

Trip set her breakfast down on the coffee table, and she sat cross-legged in front of it, eagerly digging in. He went in search of his boots, knowing full well they only had a matter of minutes to get out the door.

It took some struggle, but he finally extricated them out of the hall closet. Sitting on the end of the couch, he caught a glimpse of Hoshi studying a paper taped up on the wall, a small smile adorning her features.

Just the day before, Katie had brought out her crayons and drew them a picture, with jagged green grass at the bottom and a bright yellow sun in the corner. One stick figure was wearing a white dress, while the other sported a black top hat. A smaller individual stood between them, and if he wasn't mistaken, he was pretty sure it wore Katie's pink princess crown that she loved so much. Underneath it, in big, shaky letters, she'd call it for what it was: FAMLE.

And they were a family, even though they weren't married yet, even though Katie wasn't related to them and didn't have either of their last names. Trip loved her just as much as he would one of his own, and that was never going to change.

That only made today, above all days, one of the most important of his life.

"Time to go!" Hoshi declared in a sing-song voice, coming around to stand next to the door. "Come on, Katie. Let's put on our shoes together."

The little girl moved quickly, abandoning her breakfast and hurrying to her side. Trip kicked his search for his pips into overdrive, and soon they were rushing down the street towards the transport station together, holding onto Katie's tiny hands and intermittently swinging her off her feet, causing her to erupt in a fit of giggles.

She was good as gold on the hovertrain, sitting in Hoshi's lap and studying the suburbs as they flew by. At one point, she asked to look at the bugs, and Trip obliged, switching on his PADD and maneuvering to his photo gallery.

Recently, they'd discovered a red dragonfly on one of their Sunday walks in the park, its wings tinged with blue and white. Trip attempted to find a visual match in the database, but came up short; finally, at Katie's insistence, he reached out to the one person who would know, the very same entomologist they'd known for years. After half a dozen calls, the station master at dry dock took pity and informed him that the Phloxes had left their communicators behind. Calling in a favor, he found their biosigns somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, and soon received a reply back, wasting no time in teasing her just a little bit.

You're a tough woman to track down, Cutler, he'd said.

It's a male libellula saturata, the flame skimmer dragonfly, she replied, not taking the bait. Then, even more simply: Miss you. See you in a few days.

And he hoped he would have a chance to swing by before the Enterprise departed, taking away the best friends he'd ever had and his last chance of ever stepping foot in space again. Though he'd made his peace with his decision to provide Katie a stable home, a part of him still felt wistful about one more mission.

He digressed. A majority of the Maelstrom crew had found new postings, with all of the surviving senior staff remaining at HQ. Ethan was teaching in the sciences, Jules in the command division, while Yuris was leading Starfleet Medical and Jimmy was serving as some sort of liaison between Intelligence and Security. They may have been scattered, but they were still mostly intact, and for now, that was well and good enough.

The three of them hopped off at the main gates, rushing past the giant bronze statue of Cochrane and Solkar engaged in their fateful handshake and onto the sidewalk. Trip had always forgotten just how beautiful San Francisco was in the springtime, from the sprawling lawns to the well kept buildings to the students and crewmen and flag officers hurrying around, all with somewhere better to be.

The drop-off line for preschool was bustling, and Katie even wandered off momentarily to say hello to a few of the neighborhood kids. It struck Trip then just what a perfect picture of domesticity they painted, and he seized Hoshi's hand, squeezing tightly.

At last they arrived at the front, and the teacher at the desk made a point to swivel around in her chair, beaming down at her. "Hi there! Would this be Katie Tucker?"

"Barrett," Trip corrected her quietly, and she flushed with embarrassment, returning to her seat.

"Sorry about that. Is all the information you've provided us still accurate?"

"Sure thing!" Trip then knelt down to her level, taking her hands. "Do you remember who you call if you're ever scared or in trouble?"

She recited their names, and then, when prompted, rattled off their comm codes. Proud and sentimental and a touch terrified as to what the day might bring, he held out his arms, and then they were all wrapped in a family hug, trying to send as much warmth, reassurance, and confidence her way as they possibly could.

It was all over much too soon, and then she was running after the other children, dragging her lunchbox by the strap behind her. Trip and Hoshi watched her go, both treacherously close to tears, then she looped her arm through his, guiding him back down the hallway and into the bright morning sunlight.

T'Pol could feel her husband calling out to her through the bond, but that didn't mean she was listening.

It was their final day in paradise, having spent a month honeymooning in the Archer family home, with nary a responsibility to draw their attention from one another. As Jonathan had pointed out, they were lucky to even make it out of bed for the first few days, but once they did, she became enraptured with the Adirondacks, the towering pines, the natural springs, the winding mountain paths that led to nowhere.

Over the first weekend, they took a stroll into the village and met the locals, taking in lunch at a tiny cafe and making up false identities on the spot when pressed by their waitress. She must have known better - their faces were still all over the news bulletins, after all - because when the check arrived, the total was curiously marked as zero. Embarrassed, Jonathan insisted on leaving them a couple credits, even though the ladies behind the counter said they needed nothing more than an autograph and a holo-pic with the heroes who had saved Earth from certain destruction.

But that was just the thing - the entire Coalition had spent the better part of four years getting slaughtered by the Romulans at every turn, but nothing they did felt extraordinary. They'd done it all before during the Xindi conflict, and though they'd received a similarly warm welcome then, it had felt more like a slap to the face.

They'd all done horrible things for the sake of the war effort. T'Pol had murdered her half-brother, the Chairman of the Tal Shiar, and then shot him a few more times for good measure. Jonathan had learned that his armory officer and former security attache were both still in communication with the Section, and what's more, he'd encouraged them to use their connection with Harris to their benefit. Between them, the guilt was eating them alive, and for the longest time, neither could really make sense of it.

They eventually came to some sort of tenuous peace, the kind that only came through hours and hours of intense introspection. For once in their years-long partnership, they discussed nothing of importance. They would wake up, meditate, hike, eat, make love, talk, reminisce, and just be.

That was what T'Pol was attempting to do when she received his nonverbal warning: we've got to head out soon if we want to catch our shuttle, honey. Then, a little more forcefully: They won't start without us.

Then let them wait, she concluded, swirling her tea cup and lifting it into her line of sight to study the leaves. Long ago, Lieutenant Novakovich had given her a crash course in tasseography, stating that he had an aunt back home who could divine anyone's future in seconds. It had been one of their few personal interactions before he left for the Maelstrom, over several minutes in the dead of night in the mess hall, but she'd remembered it for years, and she'd be remiss to ignore what the human superstition was telling her now.

Happiness in the near future, but cloudy skies dead ahead.

Jonathan suddenly emerged in the doorway, boyish grin ever-present, hands propped on his hips in mock frustration. Somehow he had found the time to change back into uniform, and the difference was momentarily jarring. T'Pol abandoned the bay window and followed him downstairs into the kitchen, where she watched him wash and dry her cup in silence. Their suitcases were already stacked up next to the door, and somewhere, Porthos was whimpering, none too pleased about being packed in his carrier for transit. From her vantage point, she could see her cat dozing away, keen to ignore her counterpart as always.

Milady de Winter, or Lady for short, had been a Christmas present from Jonathan long before the idea of marriage was even a question. He spun a yarn a light year wide about capturing it in the cargo bay and luring it into his arms with a bit of lunch meat, and though she was initially dismayed at sharing her living space with such an unfamiliar creature, she eventually warmed up to the fluffy little calico, admiring her calm demeanor and clean habits and boisterous purr, which proved to be immensely comforting during meditation.

They would all have a change of scenery soon enough, as that afternoon, Enterprise would leave dry dock to chase its next misadventure. All that was standing in their way was a lengthy briefing and an even longer cross-continent shuttle ride, where she could only hope no one would recognize them.

"Feels like we've only been here a matter of days," he confessed, doubling back through the cavernous living room to double check that the patio doors were closed and every window was shut tight. All the while, he felt her unwillingness to leave clear as day, and so he turned the tables on her, exposing his innermost thoughts and desires to her as he always would.

They would be back soon, well after the Enterprise's final mission was over and they were given planetside assignments, and it would be like nothing had changed. The wildflowers would be in bloom and they would have their first child in tow. It was all he wanted, and truthfully, all he needed.

She could see it too now, clear as day. Wordlessly, she joined him at the door, then stepped over the threshold into the fresh air, breathing deeply. Before climbing into the hovercar, she sidled up to him and cupped his cheek with her hand. Soon, his lips were occupied by more than just idle conversation.

Their shuttle ride was uneventful, and as they began their final descent into San Francisco, T'Pol retreated to the restroom, where she slipped back into her coveralls for the first time in what felt like years. Glancing up into the mirror, she confirmed that she looked every bit out of sorts as she felt - gone was the bride, replaced by the captain, staunch and humorless as she ever was. She reentered the cabin and made her way down the aisle, feeling the eyes of everyone on board following her down to her destination.

Out of uniform, she was just some anonymous Vulcan, but in her Starfleet armor, she was something to be admired, even feared.

The irony didn't escape her for a moment.

Fortunately, the pilot seemed to catch wind of the fact that he had more than just civilians on board, and let them off right at the transport station adjacent to HQ. They hadn't so much as disembarked before they were off again, and all of a sudden a cluster of security personnel surrounded them, hustling them through the gates and down the crowded sidewalks to their destination.

It all happened so fast that T'Pol scarcely realized that some porter had materialized to take their luggage back to dry dock - an advantage of being a flag officer, or so she gathered, or the spouse of one. Jonathan's new role as the official United Earth liaison to the Beta Quadrant was shaping up to be a challenging one, even more so that Prime Minister Samuels had his sights set on wooing as many worlds as possible into a new and improved Coalition, one whose bonds weren't forged by war.

The goals of the United Federation of Planets were lofty ones, especially because membership mandated dissolving the armed forces and aligning their aims with that of United Earth. By the time Starfleet Academy welcomed its first class of students in the fall of 2161, Starfleet Training Command would be a thing of the past and the dormitories would be filled with cadets from multiple species.

It wasn't as though she didn't think it was a good idea - far from it. Nevertheless, T'Pol was unconvinced of their ability to convince even their most loyal allies to sign on to their plan. Shran would certainly turn his nose up at it, and the older members of the High Command were more likely to laugh in their faces than throw their support behind anything Minister T'Pau favored. But they still had to try, because if they didn't, the terms of the Coalition would lapse in two years, and they would all go their separate ways.

And if the Romulans decided to break the terms of the Neutral Zone Treaty, there would be no one standing in the way of the destruction of Vulcan, let alone Earth.

All of this was on her mind as they forged into the atrium of one of the administrative buildings. They walked right underneath the second floor awning, and she briefly glanced up, finding Jonathan and Erika's official portraits hanging right there alongside the rest of the flag officers. Elsewhere in the corridors, her likeness had replaced his with the captains of the fleet, and the significance of that was not lost on her.

They found their senior staff clustered up against the far wall, laughing and carrying on, looking a touch more well-rested than the last time she'd seen them. Their time off had specifically seemed to breathe new life into Lieutenant Cutler, if her rosy cheeks and bright eyes were any indication. During the journey between Cheron and Earth, she'd complained that she was going prematurely gray in her thirties, and T'Pol was gratified to see that she had at last embraced it. Whether her condition was due to stress or her unfortunate bout of radiation poisoning all those years ago, she didn't know. She almost didn't want to ask.

Before they could even reach the group, let alone offer pleasantries, Kov shouted his greeting, then began to wave at them, slowly at first with increasing fervor. Their chief engineer was as upbeat as ever, a very Vulcan half-smile chipping away at the impassive expression both of them had been trained in since birth. T'Pol thought about asking how his extensive sightseeing had gone, but it was there all over his face - namely, in the vivid sunburn coloring his forehead and nose.

I didn't know Vulcans could get sunburned, Jonathan admitted through their bond, but waved back all the same.

It's exceedingly rare, she said, as if a former V'tosh Ka'tur joining Starfleet and folding himself naturally into the social order of a mostly human crew wasn't rare enough. Sol emits higher on the UV spectrum than 40 Eridani A.

He grinned shamelessly at her use of the human designation for her sun, then stepping right up to their tactical officer, holding out his arms. Alira leaned into him, squeezed his shoulder, then pulled back, her demeanor as welcoming as ever.

"Trying something new, Taxa?"

She hesitated for a moment before catching on, reaching back to adjust the bun tied at the nape of her neck. For as long as they'd known her - nearly five years - she'd worn her blonde curls in nothing but a signature ponytail, so the difference was instantly noticeable.

"Our little one has discovered the use of her hands." Mirella lurched out of her father's arms and made a wild grab for the two of them, and Jon wiggled his fingers at her, heartened by the sight of their little cadet as he always was. "She's got quite a strong grip."

"And your visit home?"

"Completed without major incident, sir," Malcolm said, and he sounded tremendously relieved. "Although my mother is convinced she was named after her. I didn't want to break the news, so I just…" He trailed off, scrunching up his nose, and held his breath as he desperately tried to curtail his reaction to the pollinated spring air. Finally, he sneezed, and it was followed shortly by a soft, high-pitched giggle, perhaps the sweetest sound Jonathan had ever heard in her life.

There was a split second of bewilderment - the looks on their faces were absolutely priceless. Liz didn't miss a beat, clearing her throat somewhat theatrically, causing Miri to dissolve into a much louder fit of laughter.

When Phlox returned shortly thereafter, having spent some time catching up with former colleagues nearby, he was tremendously concerned to find the group suffering some sort of respiratory distress en masse, save for their resident Vulcans and a very happy baby. Reflexively, he reached for his tricorder, only to be waved off by Ensign Singh.

"I've missed you, doc," she finally managed, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Where have you been?"

"Traveling north up the coast," he replied automatically, though he got the sense the question was more rhetorical than anything.

"It was amazing," Liz clarified. "We left our communicators behind and just drove. In the Napa Valley, we stayed at the most adorable little bed and breakfast…"

"...and in Portland, we met this other Denobulan couple on work exchange from the IME. Come to find out, three of us lived on the same city block growing up. They took us on a walking tour of the city, and at the end of the night, they invited us back to their…"

"Phlox," she cautioned, though her cheeks were very clearly flushed, her ears burning with embarrassment. "We saw some orca whales off the coast of Vancouver Island. I swear to you, I've never seen anything so beautiful."

But she had, and would soon again. After so long in the coldness of space, every last wildflower, sunset, and country lane filled her with such unspeakable happiness that each successive cry was more cathartic than the last. Together, they shed the layers of misery they'd be carrying like a shroud over the past few years, and even now, it had still yet to sink in that they were about to forge into the fire all over again.

"You might want to hold that thought. They've got us passing right by the Robinson Nebula to capture updated sensor readings." Dita had ample time to study the flight plan from the first leg of their diplomatic mission - Gardner had been adamant that their primary goal would be soliciting as many signatories into the Federation as possible, but HQ had sprinkled in a few chances for exploration along the way.

She and her husband had spent the past few weeks helping her parents settle into a well-earned retirement back in New Delhi, where a few members of their extended family still lived. The fate of the ECS was far from certain as the Federation developed, but the crew of the Saraswati was still looking forward to forging back into the unknown even though they'd been on the receiving end of a particularly violent attempt on their lives by Pascal only a few months before.

After spending her adolescence and young adulthood in space, Earth always felt a little claustrophobic. Back on the Enterprise, the artificial gravity was tuned down, the air was thick and enriched with supplemental oxygen, and she saw the faces of friends wherever she went. Though she knew the next few months were going to be challenging, there was no place in the universe she'd rather be.

Admiral Gardner charged past them with his entourage in tow, barely sparing them a passing glance. A nervous hush swept over the room like a tidal wave, and as one the senior staffs of the NX fleet turned and followed him into the boardroom, not stopping until they were huddled together shoulder to shoulder within.

He didn't waste time. An unseen button was pressed, and a holographic projection sprung up from the table, detailing troop movements over the next few months across both quadrants. PADDs were slowly traversing the crowd, gradually finding their intended targets one by one. Jonathan looked to the left and to the right, coming up woefully short until he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Right here, Commodore." He would've recognized Erika's voice anywhere. All of a sudden, there she was, toting their marching orders and a shiny new pin on her lapel.

"Thank you, Commodore," Jon replied. "Enjoy Cabo?"

She smiled, rolling her eyes and biting back whatever sarcastic remark she had forming. After living so long in misery of Captain Pritchard's death, Erika had taken the plunge, eloping in Vegas with her XO before getting the hell out of dodge. "Drinking, dancing, private beaches...can't complain."

"Sure you can. If not, I guarantee Gardner's about to change that." From this angle, he could see the glimmer of the ring on her finger, and couldn't help but pass comment. "Looks like he did well."

"So did you." Leaning forward ever so slightly, she and T'Pol locked eyes, and Erika smiled, feeling the warmth returned to her tenfold.

From the opposite end of the room, someone was clapping their hands, and they turned around just in time to find their CO standing at the edge of the table, trying his best to gain and hold everyone's attention. Gardner was by no means a visually imposing man, though he made up for it in sheer audacity. Now, Jon could tell he was contemplating standing on a chair to tower over them all, but rapidly decided against it.

"We'll be departing by reverse commission order today, folks. Let's start at the end. NX-16 Boadicea, you'll be paying a visit to the Kreetassans. Stay a few weeks. Earn their trust."

There was a rapid intake of breath, but Erika still managed a smile, affording him the bare bones of a salute before scrolling through the dossier in her hands. The species in question was notoriously argumentative and easy to offend, so their assignment was by no means enviable. Like a phantom, Dita appeared at her side, reaching across to pass another PADD into her commodore's hands.

"Do you have a dog, ma'am?"

Behind him, someone snickered, though Jon couldn't for the life of him figure out where it was. Liz covered her face with her hands, turning away in profile.

Erika had apparently read the mission reports from all those years ago, and even if her memory was spotty, the entire Enterprise senior staff had practically roasted him for it at the reception. Jon got the sense that he would never truly live that down. With as much forced nonchalance as she could muster, she assured her: "I'll make sure to stay away from the alvera trees."

The admiral went on, detailing missions to Agaron, Dekendi III, and B'Saari II, among others, until he finally made his way around to the Enterprise. Jon activated the screen and leaned ever so slightly into his wife, noting with a touch of curiosity that their list seemed more in-depth than any other.

"Captain, Commodore - you'll need to be at Demeris by the end of the month." The viewscreen shifted, revealing a striking blue and green orb, not unlike Earth. They were at least peripherally aware of the Demerians in their alliance with the ECS, but he couldn't say he'd ever had the privilege of seeing one face to face. Scrolling through the headshots of several prominent government figures, he confirmed that each of them had a distinct, hawkish appearance, with a sharp nose, angular jaw, and piercing golden eyes. All wore ritualistic tattoos on their temples and chins, likely with a profound religious significance.

"The Phoenix and the Cochrane will meet you at Deneva to assist with the restoration effort there," Gardner continued. Towards the end of the war, United Earth's most productive extraterrestrial mining operation had been wiped out by three successive battles, the colonies razed entirely. Jon could only imagine the devastation that awaited them. "After that, trade negotiations with the Vissians, leading into the Interspecies Medical Exchange conference at Tau Ceti."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Phlox visibly perk up, and he smiled in spite of himself. When Gardner asked if anyone had any questions, truthfully, he had about a million, but remained silent as they were dismissed and the chamber summarily descended into chaos.

He meant to join the crowd heading for the transport platforms, but was stopped by a gentle nudge through their bond. Head whipping around, he soon locked eyes with a very serious looking Andorian, antennae curled forward and lips fashioned in the facsimile of a smile.

"Ensign Tejal reporting for duty, sir." Her voice was soft, perfectly at odds with her tall and imposing stature, and it momentarily took him aback. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalled just how Shran liked to be greeted, and reached forward, prepared to grasp her forearm in solidarity with Imperial Guard tradition.

"At ease. Welcome to the team." She reciprocated the gesture, pressing her nails into his skin through the fabric of his uniform. To his credit, he pressed on, gritting his teeth to prevent a visible reaction. "The General says you were the best navigator in the Imperial Guard."

"He's right," Tejal assured him, in the strangely ambivalent way that made him unsure if she was kidding or not. Swiftly, she let go and turned to T'Pol, affording her the same gruff hello with a touch less enthusiasm.

"I'm sure that Captain Shran has told you all kinds of stories," Dita said, laughter in her voice, earning a searing onceover. "He's never been able to get rid of us."

"That has been to our benefit." Working her way around the circle, Tejal very visibly skipped over the Reeds, before pressing past them and making a bold move towards the door. When she realized she wasn't being followed, she glanced back, asking: "Shall we?"

Standing in a distant corner, Prime Minister Samuels watched the crew of the Enterprise leave, then ducked into a back hallway and moved swiftly through the darkness. His mind was a swirling mass of confliction, though his motives remained as crystal clear as ever. With the track record of Archer's team - really, the entire NX fleet - there was simply too much at risk.

However high the cost, he couldn't leave anything to chance.

Samuels met his companion behind several sets of trap doors, under flickering lights and a distinct electrical buzz from overhead. Their association was not built out of familiarity, but necessity, and while he hated himself for needing to seek him out, he had to admit, his people always got the job done. As the chairman of the United Earth Council, he was Starfleet adjacent, and that had always been good enough for him.

Whether or not he intended to expose them for what they were was a bygone conclusion - this man had way too much on him as it was. He tried to lie to himself and say his intentions were pure, but in reality, he craved the presidency of the Federation like air and water. It was his organization to lead, and he would get what he wanted, even if he had to play dirty.

"I need you to make sure these negotiations go smoothly."

"Which ones?"

"The big three - Tellar Prime, Vulcan, and Andoria. Deneva too. We know the problems there, what the Enterprise is going to be up against…"

"My help comes with a price."

"Doesn't it always?"

"This one may be higher."

"For me?"

"No," Harris said, turning his chin out of the shadows just so Samuels could see the lines set in his face, the graying hair, the tired eyes that betrayed a lifetime of service, on this side of morality or the next. "Not for you. Rest assured, the Section never fails anyone."

"You're so good to me, Jules."

"Why do you say that?"

"Letting me crash in your office." He tilted his mug towards her. "Making me coffee the old fashioned way. It's only mediocre, but it sure does hit the spot."

She huffed, pushing his feet off the coffee table as she doubled back towards the window. Her new digs in the command wing were spacious and comfortable, perhaps suited to an officer of much higher station, but hers all the same. It faced towards the east, towards the cloud-dusting skyscrapers of Oakland and the short, heavily armored buildings of the Alameda Arsenal, the glittering waters of the bay serving as the great divide between them. In the morning, the sun was almost blinding, but moving on towards noon, the room was bathed in warm golden light, from her desk to her bookcases to the cluster of armchairs on the far wall.

After spending the past decade of her life in space, Commander Hammond had almost forgotten just how good fresh air and sunlight felt.

"This is only until they finish building your part of the building," she said, as if she didn't enjoy having him there. For her, the past month had been spent in the company of her mother in her childhood home, luxuriating in creature comforts and gradually working through the trauma brought on by Travis's death, so a return to normal was not only anticipated, but appreciated. "How's Katie?"

"She's adjusting, slowly but surely." Trip frowned, raking a hand through his hair. "The other night, she had a nightmare and I came in to calm her down. When I left, she was so sleepy that she was barely aware of what she was saying. Pretty sure she called me dad."

Julia knew that was significant, especially because all she'd ever called them up until then was Trip and Hoshi. At the beginning, he'd made it clear that they weren't trying to replace her mother, that no one ever could, but it was heartening to hear that they were starting to come together all the same.

Then again, Trip deserved it more than anyone. In terms of fatherhood, she'd never met someone more suited for the job.

She was about to tell him as much when the hatch slid open, producing a very harried and annoyed Lieutenant Novakovich. He dodged her altogether and went to the chaise underneath the window, settling in as though he were in a therapist's office and knitting his fingers together behind his head.

"Use the comm much?"

"Not today, Jules. I just taught my first class."

"Botany?"

"I wish. Admiral Lancaster is out on sabbatical, so I supervised a bunch of first year trainee science crewmen in their taxonomy lab." He sighed dramatically, crossing his legs at the ankle. "This man - keep in mind, he's probably eighteen or nineteen, old enough to vote in United Earth Council elections - looks me dead in the eye and asks if a snake is a mammal."

"Not optimistic for the officers of tomorrow, huh?"

"The other students at his table were laughing, but he was oblivious. I ask him, do you lay eggs? And he says, well no, but what does that have to do with anything?" Ethan reached out blindly, and she rewarded him with a steaming cup of coffee. "After that interaction, I need another month of leave. Maybe twelve."

Julia laughed, settling in at her desk. "You're telling me. I was scrolling through old lesson plans in the command and control track this morning, and come to find out they've been doing case studies on our old mission logs. Names redacted, of course."

That certainly got Trip's attention. "What missions, exactly?"

She queued up the one in question, then turned the PADD around to face him. "See here: A Complex Cross-Cultural Examination of First Contacts with Unfamiliar Species: Avoiding Diplomatic Incidents, Unplanned Pregnancies, and Beyond."

"Unplanned…" Trip stuttered, then repeated himself at least twice over, abandoning his perch to study the screen. He began to pace, reading far into the abstract, confirming with a great deal of dismay that an entire new generation of officers was learning about his ordeal with the Xyrillians.

"Tough break, sir," Ethan cut in, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh.

"Don't get smart with me now, Novakovich. If I dive any further into this list, I guarantee I'll find an entry about psychotropic pollen." He maneuvered back to the main menu, then started to scroll, desperate to prove his point. Almost immediately, his comm chirped, and he went to answer it, balancing it in the crook of his shoulder. "Tucker here."

He introduced himself, though it came out muffled and garbled, and he asked him to repeat himself before finally working out that he was the headmaster of Katie's preschool. A second later, he turned and bolted from the room, and Julia and Ethan followed him, thoroughly abandoning their conversation and coffee and everything that came along with it.

Katie wasn't sure what came over her. One minute they were playing, and she was waiting for her turn with the building blocks, when she heard a massive boom outside. It sounded thunderous, and she immediately cowered away from it, not knowing that it was simply an external door slamming and not a bomb going off. On instinct, she began to look around for Trip and Hoshi, and when she came up short, began to plot her escape. In her mind, she needed to save them, to make sure they were safe, and there was very little time to waste.

Soon, one of the other children threw a tantrum, and she stole the opportunity to slip past the desk into the corridor. Unbeknownst to her, every single movement in the building was being monitored by security cameras, but she didn't hesitate, breaking out into a run and ducking into nooks and crannies, looking high and low.

It didn't take her long to get lost in a corridor which felt as wide as it was tall. There was no one around, and though she called out for them, neither Trip nor Hoshi appeared. Terrified that they'd been carried away like her mother, that she was now lost, that she would be left behind and forgotten, she curled up next to the wall and burst into tears, unable to reason, unable to think.

Soon after, she heard the heavy drag of footsteps coming up the hall, but couldn't bring herself to look up until she felt someone kneel down next to her. She opened her eyes to find an unfamiliar man studying her with what appeared to be sympathy, even as his face remained neutral. She recognized his species - slanted eyebrows, pointy ears. This could only be a Vulcan, and if the stories Trip had been telling her were true, they were friends.

"My name is Yuris," he began slowly, eyes darting left and right, then sat down on the floor. "I'm a doctor. What's your name?"

"Katie," she said, and before she could think otherwise, threw her arms around him. He stiffened, but returned the hug.

"Are you looking for someone?"

She nodded, then rattled off their names and comm codes, suddenly remembering what she was supposed to do in that situation. Now, she was fearful of making them angry, and broke down anew, weeping into his shoulder.

"There is no need to cry," he assured her. "I know Mr. Tucker. We served on the same ship."

"On the Mel...the May…"

"Maelstrom. Why don't we go find him right now?"

She nodded and reached upwards, only to be scooped up the second he stumbled to his feet. Katie soon realized that this Mr. Yuris was tall, almost impossibly so, and felt comforted that he was strong enough to defend her against any bad guys that crossed their path.

Busily drying her tears, she lost track of where they were heading, and she became distracted, leaning over to tug on the end of his ear. He only offered her the ghost of a smile, then shifted her to his other arm, pointing out all means of portraits hung on the wall, clouds of colorful dust he called nebulas and neutron stars.

"Where's your friends?"

That particular question seemed to confuse him. Many Vulcans, especially in San Francisco, tended to travel in groups. He'd been drummed out of the High Command long ago due to his mind-melding tendencies, and though certain individuals like Soval and T'Pau still kept his company, everywhere else he was an outcast. As an introvert, that suited him just fine, but now that he was no longer surrounded by the crew of the Maelstrom, he felt that loneliness all the more acutely.

But there was no way he could explain that to a child. No way.

"They are nearby," he said. "Can't you hear them?"

Without enhanced Vulcan hearing, she probably couldn't, but Yuris caught a hint of shouting from outside. Hoshi flew past the window, tricorder held at the ready, pursued by no less than three members of Starfleet Security. Somewhere else in the building, Trip was calling out his goddaughter's name, and he surreptitiously moved towards the sound.

Lieutenant Commander Sato was the first one to appear, and he turned to face her, catching her horrified expression a split second before it melted into relief and gratitude. Reflexively, she held out of her arms, closing the distance between them and holding her close.

She must've been afraid to be reprimanded, because she once again burst into tears, but Hoshi did nothing of the sort. Trip was next to appear, flanked by Ethan and Julia, so fraught that he looked like a sudden gust of wind could blow him over. He joined them in their embrace, and the soldiers who'd accompanied Hoshi moved off, whispering into their communicators that the coast was clear.

Yuris felt like he was intruding, but found himself rooted firmly in one place. Trip turned his head to speak to her, and his keen hearing picked up his whispers.

"Where did you go?"

"I heard a big boom," she confessed. "I was so scared."

It was all coming together now, and they exchanged a furtive look over the top of her head, unsure how to proceed. Finally, Hoshi spoke up: "If it happens again, ask your teacher to call us. You shouldn't go running around campus. We don't want you to get hurt."

There were many other factors at play, namely the resurgence of Terra Prime, and the fact that they couldn't be certain whether Trip was still a target, even though his daughter was fully human. A part of him also wondered if they were Tal Shiar sleeper agents in their midst, even after the signing of the Neutral Zone Treaty, even though both sides had sworn to withdraw their intelligence agents. When they'd heard she'd gone missing, both of their thoughts immediately went to the former, and Hoshi especially was gritting her teeth and trying not to shake, desperate not to show Katie just how terrified she'd been.

"Are you okay?" She asked breathlessly, and she nodded, burying her face in her shoulder. The adrenaline high fading, they each cut a glance at the chronometer on the wall.

"It's almost lunchtime. We'll walk you back to school, and then let's practice what to do when you get scared, alright?" Trip smoothed her hair back from her forehead, and she briefly looked up, meeting his gaze from a distance.

"Can Mr. Vulcan come with us?"

Ethan and Jules couldn't help but laugh - it had been one ridiculous situation after another since they returned to San Francisco, and the shock on the doctor's face was evident. Trip didn't even give him a moment to refuse, and then they were all off together, chattering and trying to lift her spirits the best they could.

"If anything goes wrong, don't hesitate to call one of us. We'll be on the bridge, or in the armory…"

"Don't worry, Commander. I have everything well in hand."

"She'll need a nap soon," Alira reminded her, as if she hadn't already spent hours pouring over the detailed notes they'd prepared. "Make sure you feed and burp her before that."

"And if she's having trouble settling down, ambient warp core noise usually helps. Before shore leave, I used to take her down there all the time. Kov's set up a chair just for that purpose, near the secondary plasma manifolds on the far wall."

"Sir…"

"There's spare bottles in my office, but if she won't take my milk, she prefers Denobulan Formula Supplement 3A." There was a decorous pause, then Alira furtively rubbed her hands together, resisting the urge to take her daughter up in her arms and never let go. "Make sure the protein resequencer is set to warm."

She knew they were being ridiculous, that it was high time they return to duty and leave Miri in the capable care of the highly vetted and intensely interviewed crewmen who had agreed to watch her when they were scheduled for the same shift. No matter how much she'd mentally prepared herself, the moment was even more heart-wrenching than she could've possibly imagined.

"I've got it, ma'am. Trust me, you've got nothing to worry about. Beta shift is only five hours away." Ensign Bennett, her second in the armory and perhaps the officer outside of senior staff she trusted most, seemed to sympathize with their plight. She turned in profile to show them that Miri was content and in no way in distress. "In the meantime, I'll show her how to hold a phase rifle and teach her all the swear words I know."

Alira had to laugh at that, though Malcolm looked positively stricken. She leaned forward to capture her daughter's tiny, waving fist. "Be good for Shelby, little one. Mummy and daddy love you."

Her father bent down to press a kiss on her forehead equidistant between her cranial ridges, and she grinned back at them, perfectly without a care in the world. Without another word, Bennett slipped away. They watched her go, hearts breaking anew, and Alira inhaled swiftly, holding back the emotion that was building just underneath the surface.

She wasn't going to cry, not in front of half the crew in the shuttlebay as they made final preparations to take off. Just because they'd spent the past three months watching their baby grow and flourish and laugh and live, didn't mean…

"That was harder than I thought it would be," Malcolm concluded, and she nodded. Together, they turned and joined the crowd heading towards the exit, determined to make it to the bridge before they changed their minds. She checked the time, then set an internal countdown, reminding herself that she only had four hours, fifty-two minutes, and ten seconds before she could hold her daughter again.

The instant they stepped over the threshold, their PADDs chirped simultaneously, and they both reached for it, assuming it was a message from the Commodore. Once her eyes fell on the screen, her heart dropped down to her stomach and settled there, fluttering wildly.

The transmission was text-only, encrypted and password protected, addressed from her brother Tullis back in the Denobulan capital. That in itself wasn't unusual - she received dozens of letters from family every day.

What was atypical was the fact that he had died some months ago during the eponymous battle over their homeworld, as a Tal Shiar sleeper agent opened fire in the bunker where his family was hiding.

Wordlessly Malcolm turned his PADD to face her, just enough for her to see that he'd just received correspondence from his sister in London. Madeline was still in Malaysia, and they both knew it, making their predicament all the more concerning.

It mirrored exactly how they used to receive orders from Section 31 back in the old days, when Harris still believed he could turn them against one another.

"It's the craziest thing, I'm telling you. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. Doesn't matter if I have ten hours or ten minutes. It's always there, inescapable."

"Have you tried sleep aids?"

"I wouldn't have survived the past four years if I wasn't medicated, Dita," she teased. "Anyway, so it's the middle of the night, and it's cold, and there's no lights on the horizon. None at all."

"Are you on Earth?"

"I have no idea, but I'm on a horse, and I'm heading for the treeline." Liz hesitated, frowning slightly. "At least, I think it's a horse."

"There are many creatures within the Coalition that are similar," Tejal offered helpfully, swiveling around from the helm to face them. "The Andorian equivalent has iridescent fur and a horn. They're known to roam the Northern Wastes and attack travelers who stray too far from their camps."

Dita finally put her headset down. "I've seen pictures! It's funny, without all the extra legs, they'd look exactly like a unicorn."

"Anyway, I'm holding something under my arm like a football, and it's heavy. Somehow I know I need to get it as far away from there as possible." Liz paused, nibbling on her thumbnail. "It's not unsettling, per se, but I can't make sense of it."

"Better than the one I always had during the war. I'd say we're underground, but I can't be sure. All I know is I'm not able to see, and it's hotter than hell. There's tremendous pressure in my head, and everything seems to be vibrating. People are screaming all around us, and just as the ceiling collapses, I wake up." Dita nodded curtly, as though she hadn't described just the most horrific experience imaginable, then turned back towards her station. "Ah! There we go. Dry dock has given us permission to depart."

Tejal didn't seem impressed. "Andorians don't dream."

"Just like Vulcans, then?"

Her antennae swiveled forward and curled under at that implication. "To do so would be a waste of resources. A good Imperial Guardsman will always remain alert, lest his enemies make an attempt on his life."

Dita nodded sagely, but said nothing, dealing Liz a furtive smile. Their new helm officer was gruff and businesslike and more than a little intimidating, but if Shran's affinity for the crew taught them anything, it was that their normally human persistence could wear down just about anyone.

In orbit, the NXes had cleared out one by one, giving them a path to ease out of their moorings. Their next era of adventure was close at hand, and though they were still tethered to the horrors of the past, each felt optimistic, as though they were poised over the precipice of something magnificent.

All they needed was the rest of their senior staff.

As if on cue, the turbolift opened, issuing both of the Reeds. Dita looked back to wave at them, but they seemed preoccupied, heads bent together, conversing quietly about she knew not what. They ignored them completely and hurried towards the captain's ready room, not even waiting for the chime before they barged in.

Just minutes earlier, the captain and the commodore were safely oblivious to anything and everything going on outside their four walls.

Progress reports were coming in from all over the ship - Kov was raring to go in engineering, while the armory reported that all the necessary hatches were battened down. Both were thinking about each and every time they'd set out into the unknown together, from their trip to Qo'noS to the close of the Xindi conflict to the aftermath of the Terra Prime incident, knowing that tragedy and misadventure awaited them but feeling powerless to stop it.

That's what makes space so tempting to us, Jonathan concluded, reaching across the table to stroke her palm with his thumb. It's beautiful, but dangerous and soul-sucking all the same. If we weren't willing to take the risk, we wouldn't be out here.

But their readiness was already waning - both knew that after the decommissioning of the Enterprise, they would take a step back from the action. He'd likely earn a rear admiral's posting, working on troop movements or strategy or something sufficiently dull, and T'Pol would return to the sciences, which was where she always belonged and deeply desired to be. She could deny it all she wanted, but Jonathan knew his wife, and knew she felt most at home surrounded by PADDs and instruments, puzzling over a complex equation until the numbers and symbols all ran together.

Her computer console chimed, and she immediately went to answer it, moving to a professional distance apart as she did so. Soon, Trip's warm smile flooded the screen, and the background was unfamiliar and effused with light, indicative of a nondescript office somewhere deep within HQ.

"Sorry I didn't get to see you off in person," he began somewhat apologetically. "We've had a bit of a situation down here this morning."

"Nothing you couldn't handle," T'Pol concluded, and he sighed wearily.

"You're right about that. Listen, just in case you forgot over the past month or so, Hoshi and I are so happy for you. It's been a long time coming, and honestly if anyone can keep Jon in line, it's you."

"I seem to remember that you were particularly adept at that."

"Trip was more of an enabler," Jon interjected, remembering their many misadventures, from dodging the Andorians at P'Jem, to getting lost in the Torothan desert, to their imprisonment on Canamar. Heavens knew how T'Pol had restrained herself from knocking some sense into them during the early days of their mission - when they worked together, as Liz was so fond of saying, they truly only shared a single brain cell.

"All the same, I hope you know it's been a hell of an honor serving with you."

"Your sentiments are reciprocated," T'Pol replied evenly, though he could tell she wanted to say so much else. There was tremendous history between the three of them, between all of the old guard of the senior staff really, their lives so intertwined that they could never really be separated. But now he could sense that his wife was coming to the terms with the fact that a former part of their life was no more, and that they couldn't go back to it, no matter how hard they tried.

"We'll keep the light on for you here in San Francisco," Trip promised. "The condo next door is empty. Who knows - it might still be that way when you get back."

Jonathan dearly hoped so. Ever so slowly, he leaned across the table so his face was in view of the screen, then touched the monitor, reaching out to him across the barriers of time and space. "Enjoy your new assignment, Trip. Don't cause too much trouble."

"You know I can't promise that, sir."

He smiled, knowing full well he should've anticipated his answer. "We'll be back before you know it."

Hopefully with our own baby, T'Pol added silently, and he couldn't help but nudge her with his shoulder.

"Katie is a fortunate child," she said, and he knew she meant it. "Best of luck to you."

They could see the effect of her words written all over his face, but he didn't stew on it for too long, ending the transmission before the emotion could spill over into something more visceral. In the poignant silence of the ready room, she slid her hand across the table, intertwining her fingers with his and overwhelming him with the intensity of her memories, the good and the bad, over what had absolutely been the most significant decade of their lives.

Behind them, the hatch slid open, and she pulled back, rising to her feet in a flash. Jon swiveled around just in time to find the Reeds, wide-eyed and breathless, their demeanors so unmistakable that he knew exactly what had transpired.

"What did he say?"

A mere twenty minutes before the end of alpha shift, Alira found herself pacing the length of her office in the armory, exhausted but unable to slow her racing thoughts.

The correspondence from Harris had sent them all off balance, and even after they got underway, building up to a cruising speed of warp six, she still felt out of sorts. Truthfully, they'd thought that after framing Pascal for the kidnapping of Minister T'Pau, the Section would know better than to cross them. Clearly, that particular gambit had failed.

The kinds of things she did as a young officer - murdering for hire, slashing throats and knocking skulls - were all things of the past, and she had no desire to return to her former ways. Every time she looked at her precious daughter, she was renewed in her resolve, and dearly hoped that she would never again be forced to keep the peace in such a violent and unforgiving manner.

Agents Winston and Lazuli were retired. She said as much, and Malcolm agreed, so they didn't even open the message. Ignoring orders always came with terrible consequences during her time with the Section, and there was still the question about whether Pascal had survived the inferno that had consumed the enemy at Cheron. After being abandoned behind enemy lines for the better part of three years, she was almost certain he would be a free agent, pursuing revenge on her own.

Truth be told, she wasn't sure which fate would be worse.

She had her back turned to the door when it opened, but she turned on her heels in a second, expecting to find Bennett there with the baby. Instead, she saw Tejal there, hands crossed behind her back, lips turned down in a frown and eyes flashing with rage.

"What can I do for you, Ensign?" Her voice was impressively neutral, considering the agonizing she'd done over the past few hours. Smiling, she took one step towards her, then another, only to stop when she shoved a PADD towards her lengthwise.

"Flight trajectories. We're going to be diverting course next week to take on photonic torpedoes from an ECS convoy."

"Very good." She spared a passing glance at the diagrams written there, then tossed it backwards on her desk. "Anything else?"

"Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"

"Have you been doing anything else since you came aboard?" Alira laughed quietly, but once she noticed her companion didn't find amusement in that, she fell silent. "Of course."

Tejal didn't even hesitate, let alone waver. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, I would prefer that you know where we stand. I dislike you and everything you stand for."

At first she was convinced she'd heard wrong, so she crossed her arms, leaning against the wall. "Go on."

"I resent you and your company, and I find it laughable that you chose such a weak and insignificant male by which to continue your bloodline."

Her smile tensed and then froze, and she studied her for a good long while, trying to determine where the hell this was coming from. Tejal was unfamiliar to her, and she was almost positive they'd never crossed paths before. Still, the audacity of her to just march into her office and declare her undying hatred before she even really knew her was impressive.

"Those aren't the adjectives I'd use."

"Excuse me?"

"I admire your initiative, Ensign," she began, her voice low, gravelly, dangerous, emphasizing her rank for all it was worth. "You do intend to maintain the chain of command, correct?"

"And follow your orders."

"Glad to hear it. Here's your first one." Alira lowered her arms to her sides, relaxing her fists, noticing that she'd pierced the skin of her palms with her fingernails. She hadn't been this angry in months, perhaps with the exception of encountering her former lover and General Vesena on Denobula. "Go back to your station. Get out of here before I rip off your antenna and shove them down your throat."

They were practically standing nose-to-nose, breathing together, seething as one. Tejal grinned, baring her flawless teeth and bluish gums, but did not move.

"You don't remember me, do you?" Alira set her jaw, blinked slowly, and shook her head. "We crossed paths near Pernaia Prime back when you were with Infantry Special Ops. My commanding officer had made some ill-advised trade deals, made enemies of your Supreme Council. They sent your kill squad."

It was all coming back to her, in flashes of light, in blasts of frigid cold, in the rasp and hiss of the breath in her lungs as she ran. Saben was ahead of her, firing on their retreating backs, gaining no ground. They'd paid the barkeep to look the other way, and he'd gone above and beyond, keeping the landing strip free of his patrons. Knowing full well their ship was already idling and their window of opportunity was narrowly closing, she acted on an impulse, reached into her pocket, and…

"I caught the stun grenade you threw at my superior," she confessed, then unsnapped her cuffs, rolling up her sleeve until she could see the curve of her elbow. Alira realized that she was looking at a rather advanced prosthetic, one that had been perfectly sculpted to her. "It took off my forearm, as well as our first officer's head."

"Ensign, I'm sorry, I…"

"I don't want your apology," she interrupted, and her plainspoken manner took her aback. Tejal wasn't angry, but pitied her, and that was even worse. The best excuse she could have given was that she was just following orders, that she wanted to avenge her father, that she hadn't been able to conceptualize the worth of someone else's life during that time because she was only thinking about herself. But Tejal seemed to see right through that, to the depths of her rotten soul. "I just want you to be aware. The past never leaves us, even with our best intentions."

As if she didn't already know that. Alira lived in fear of the day where she would have to explain to her daughter all the horrible things she'd done, and now, she would need to live with a constant reminder of her failings.

"I am sure we can set these misgivings aside and form a very productive working relationship," Tejal pressed on, tilting her head to capture her gaze once more. "Do you agree, ma'am?"

Did she?

"Of course. If anything, this is the beginning of a very beautiful friendship." Alira reached past her, pressed her hand into the wall, and activated the hatch, very forcefully indicating she should leave. Tejal obliged, leaning heavily into the doorframe, turning around to deliver her final riposte.

"I volunteered for this assignment because I believe in the continued collaboration of Starfleet and the Imperial Guard for centuries to come." She hesitated, breaking into a broad grin. "Don't prove me wrong."

The second she was gone, Alira stumbled into her office chair, hunched over, and dropped her face in her hands, breathing raggedly. More now than ever, the PADD containing the message from Harris felt tremendously heavy in her pocket.

One thing was for sure: starting today, their fairy tale was over.

Now, real life would begin.

It was another fine day on Tau Ceti Colony, and Pascal was flying high.

His time between Logistics Command and his final destination had been fraught with preparation. Both physically and spiritually, he washed T'Leikha's blood off his hands and became fixated on his next target. Fortunately for him, it didn't take much to convince Valdore to go along with his plan, and given that his front door wasn't presently being beaten down by agents of the Tal Shiar, he knew it had paid off in spades.

After the signing of the Neutral Zone Treaty, there weren't supposed to be assassins this side of the border, but he knew better. At a cargo way station near Qualor, he swapped out his stolen Andorian interceptor for a human transport and continued on his way. Starfleet Security's encryption codes were still remarkably easy to break, so he soon located his next window of opportunity, exactly where it should be.

Dr. Markham was reckless for a man of his station, and if he were still alive, he would've been sure to tell him. They crossed paths en route, and seeing as he was traveling alone, Pascal readily offered his services to get his engines up and running again. The moment he was comfortable in his presence, he bludgeoned him upside the head and ejected him out the airlock, then destroyed his own ship and carried on his merry way.

It could only be a miraculous stroke of luck that they bore an extraordinarily resemblance to one another - both freckled and redheaded, tall and wiry with a relatively confident way about them. All the same, the first thing Pascal did when he touched down was visit a gentleman who ran a shady plastic surgery business out of a basement in the industrial sector, and provided him with a few additional parameters to modify his disguise. With the proper amount of credits, he didn't ask questions, and that was well and good for him.

His unwitting victim had paid for several months' lodging ahead of the impending conference of the Interspecies Medical Exchange, and he was all too willing to make use of it. He read up on Markham's specialty, just enough to fake it in casual conversation, and busied himself by getting to know the colony. Tau Ceti was a highly populated area, housing several cosmopolitan cities with a curious mixture of Coalition inhabitants that seemed to pay him very little mind. He got to know the other natives of the system, an insectoid species from the third planet, and easily wove himself into the fabric of the provincial government. As the director of the board in charge of the IME, he would have ultimate say over the proceedings, and took advantage of it to the highest degree.

At the end of his second week after assuming his new identity, Pascal made his way down to the convention center and shook hands with the proprietor, an older man who went to great trouble to compare his face to that which appeared on his personnel files. His disguise held up - even the man's wife had been fooled during a recent video call - and in the end, he had no chance but to hand over the access codes.

"Dr. Markham," he greeted him warmly, sweeping his hands up towards the cavernous ceilings and arching skylights. "You're a little early. The conference doesn't start for almost three more months."

Casually, he flipped through the list of guests who'd confirmed their attendance so far, eyes eventually settling on a handful of Starfleet ranks and serial numbers. NX-01 Enterprise, the final column declared, and he was seized by a new and overpowering sense of resolve.

"I'd say I'm just in time," he replied evenly, then turned away from him, eyes lifted towards the heavens.

End of Episode One

Next time on Enterprise…

Episode Two: Corner of the Sky

Enterprise's first away mission since the war completely derails when the locals mistake Lieutenant Cutler for a venerated deity. After so long dormant, Terra Prime raids the Vulcan Consulate in Sausalito.