A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys! Glad folks liked Soval's part in the drama. Continue to provide input on what's working and not working for ya.
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The facility was quiet; only the hum of the air supply reverberating off the metal walls sounded in the control room. Although the moon didn't have quite the same amount of sunlight – making the difference between day and night more subtle than on Earth – humans stuck to habits of sleeping during what Earth deemed night. Paxton couldn't sleep, he usually had problems doing so anyway, but tonight his insomnia was due to delight and excitement.
My plan is working, he thought.
Paxton inspected his terminal with sheer glee. The headlines were more outrageous and salacious than he could've imagined, nay dreamed.
The Boston Globe had an in depth story covering the lurid affair between a starman and an alien. In it, the news organization tried to dive into the psychology behind the relationship and produced "nuggets" that made him laugh out loud.
"Jonathan Archer has been around Vulcans all his life, thanks to his famous father's work. It, a longing to be intimate with one of them, must've taken root at a young age, possibly when his father was working with female Vulcan scientists in the engineering lab. And being on a starship, alone an in space with T'Pol – a beautiful woman and one who's readily available - must've been too much for him to resist. So he committed the act, luxuriating in it."
The BBC made the information more of a love story: good-looking captain out to save his planet with a beautiful alien at his side, facing the possibility of Earth's extinction. They'd supposed the two decided to get rid of their baby because of the harsh treatment they would receive from Starfleet. In fact, they'd reported that Jon (they called him by his nickname – as if familiar with him) and T'Pol were held there now as prisoners.
Vulcan's own planet had managed to carry information, dull as dirt to read, about the conjecture on Earth about T'Pol and Captain Archer. They also did a piece on the riot, which made humans seem like outrageous barbarians.
Paxton didn't mind.
Perhaps it'll keep those pointy-eared creatures off of my planet, he thought.
Le Monde focused on the incident where the captain punched a reporter. As a side note, they witnessed the Vulcan had tried to stop him, but "in a fit of jealous rage Archer had sullied ahead to deal a blow, sending the man to the ground."
Perusing the news, he finally stopped on the one agency, the New York Times; they managed to produce exactly what he wanted to see: "Should aliens and humans intermingle?" In it, they had an expose on how several incidents had caused a disruption to humans – the Xindi attack being the most prominent. Other problems surfaced: the Vulcans preventing from providing mankind technology; Enterprise's run ins with various aliens and their reaction against us, particularly aliens who placed a bounty on Archer's head; and the racism and backlash against various aliens because of the Xindi attack. The news organization asked Vulcans, humans, Denobulans and the few Andorians who managed to make Earth their home questions about the humans and this paranoia. And the bias that came out was that perhaps mankind wasn't ready for interspecies relations of almost any kind.
That put a smile on Paxton's face. Yielding a purring laugh, he tapped his thumb on a button, asking for one of his oldest friends and the man serving as his communications liaison: Watson.
The terminal focused in on Watson's black face and white smile.
Paxton said, "I think we're ready to go to the media. I think they may now be interested in our story."
Watson said, "You mean my story?"
Paxton's eyes twinkled. His friend would indeed be the one delivering the news, so in fact it would be his.
"Yes, of course. Just don't forget the pictures."
Watson said, "You don't think Starfleet will tell the media we kidnapped the kid?"
Paxton corrected him. "We didn't kidnap Abomi. We created it. It belongs to us. But, they don't know that, otherwise Starfleet would've already mentioned that already."
Watson nodded. "I'll contact my friend in Seattle."
"Good." Paxton added a few words. "As long as we keep it in the news."
The black man nodded and the image faded away. Paxton put his feet up on his desk and decided to spend the rest of the evening entertaining himself by reading the other news.
Really the information they've been publishing – they have no idea.
Sleep would just have to wait. Protecting Earth from further alien intrusion was really the most important thing right now. So he read the articles he'd already perused again. And that made him smile.
---
In a panic, T'Pol tore out the door to the room they were in.
"Please, you must help me," she said.
There were three guards, men probably given orders to ensure she and the captain remained in their room, who intercepted her right away. They wore Starfleet uniforms, jumpsuits as the crew of Enterprise wore, except they had nametags over their left breast.
"Please," she said.
"Back up," said the tallest guard.
She glanced at his nametag: Lt. Travers.
Stepping carefully backwards, with her hands slightly raised to show she had no ill will, she clarified her intent.
"Captain Archer is ill."
The guards all frowned at each other and one, a stocky man – Lt. Commander Parnell, nodded.
"All right."
With his gun pointed back, he encouraged T'Pol to walk ahead of them, her hands slowly raised. Behind her, she heard the men tread cautiously into the room, checking around corners and behind the door.
"Turn around," Parnell said.
She did, just in time to see the man nudge Archer with his foot. When the captain didn't react, the man kneeled down.
"Keep an eye on her," Parnell said.
T'Pol saw the pistols pointed against more ardently as if warning her against any movement while the stocky guard placed two fingers against Archer's neck. With a furrowed brow, the guard stood.
Parnell said, "Something is wrong with him. His heartbeat is erratic."
"Please, get a doctor," T'Pol said.
He agreed, and then ordered Lt. Travers to call in the medical team. The tall guard slipped out of her eyesight and she turned her attention on the captain.
When Travers entered the room, he reinforced what she already knew – thanks to a medical base located on Starfleet premises.
"They'll arrive any minute," Travers said.
"Thank you," she said.
Ensign Jackson, the one who'd remained silent, produced a small smile.
He said, "Don't worry, your boyfriend will be okay."
Parnell cast a glare in his direction. "Ensign, can it with the small talk. She's your commanding officer, no matter how you feel about this case. You got that?"
Jackson said, "Yes, sir."
Parnell shrugged. "Sorry, ma'am."
"I understand." Then with a slightly quipped brow, she asked a question. "You still believe I will want to escape?"
"No," Parnell said. "But, Admiral Gardner asked to make sure you two don't leave until we get this case sorted out."
"I see." Her eyes darted to her fallen captain and then met Parnell's. "May I?"
The stocky man sagged his shoulders and weakly gave his approval. With that, T'Pol walked over to her friend and squatted near him. Checking his pulse herself, she noticed it was indeed erratic, although beating strong.
"Told you were they were boyfriend and girlfriend," said Ensign Jackson.
It was low and out of most human's range, but she heard it. And rather than correct him, she remained silent, caressing the hollow of Archer's cheek. It was a feather touch, but one she hoped would both be soothing enough to calm his heart and maybe urge him to consciousness.
When the medical staff arrived – one man and one woman, they placed Archer on a gurney and wheeled him out, speeding, from the complex toward a shuttle only twenty feet away. As she suspected a few reporters lay in wait, just outside the building, hoping to ask a few last minute questions as Archer's body was loaded into the back of the medic shuttle.
"We'll be there in no time," the female paramedic said to T'Pol.
Parnell sat down next to her, making the shuttle more crowded.
He apologized. "I'm sorry, I need to come. It's protocol."
She said, "Of course."
The Vulcan noted the pilot, a young man in his mid-twenties, who seemed fairly new to the lifestyle; his white knuckles gripping the controls gave him away. The shuttle lurched forward and began zipping to the facility.
Only after the two medics in the back began to swirl around her commanding officer, splaying open his uniform to inject him with a compound, she made her move.
Otherwise they'll kill him.
Without hesitation, she leaned over to the guard, as if to ask a question and snaked her hand around his shoulder to pinch it – the Vulcan neck pinch incapacitated him. When he slumped quickly against the metal wall of the craft, she grabbed the weapon from his unconscious hand and immediately thrust it forward toward the medics.
Inside T'Pol's mind, she let loose a scream – it was long and loud, louder than she imagined her voice could carry and the result sparked Archer to life. Archer's body sat up, taking his first breath of conscious air. And although he seemed confused, she knew he was all right.
"I suggest none of you move," T'Pol said.
The weapon was leveled at the male, the medic who looked as if he may attack.
Archer said, his voice hoarse, "I take it the plan worked."
"Almost flawlessly."
"Almost?"
"If I had not used our bond to awaken you, we would not have been successful."
"How long was I out?"
"Approximately two hours and ten minutes."
She sent a warm tingle, the equivalent of a light touch on his shoulder, through her bond, and she was able to sense he felt it; the lopsided grin he produced gave her evidence.
Wincing, he rolled his shoulders forward a few times.
He said, "The neck pinch hurts more than I thought."
"I did warn you …."
He responded with a smile. "Yes, you did."
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the pilot pick up his communication device when she intercepted, leveling her gun at him."I advise not contacting anyone and flying to the following coordinates: 2.1.0 mark 5."
"You're going to kill me?" the pilot asked.
"No. However, I would like to abscond with your vehicle," she said.
She felt Archer's grin widen and heard the thoughts that came to his mind clearly.
That's my girl.
---
Trip Tucker was about to be hogtied. After pacing in the Ready Room, at least twice, he finally got the message he'd been expecting.
"Sir, Admiral Gardner is contacting you," Hoshi said via the intercom.
"Put him though."
A man with almost Italian features – a strong jaw and a dark beard – appeared and the monitor, and the sight of his boss' superior on the terminal made Trip slouch rather than straighten.
Gardner was a real piece of work.
He was the guy, one of the flyboys back during the test program, who made being an engineer hell. Instead of knowing the components, like Archer, the guy'd squawk about one thing or another pointing to parts as if he could identify him. Sometimes people received promotions, undeserved ones; Gardner was one of them. As proof, the boys back in Engineering had a nickname for the guy, behind his back of course: The Drip. Trip found it hard to remember exactly why they'd done so, but recalls someone tying "Garden Hose" which lead mischievously to "Drip."
The Drip stuck.
"Thank you, Commander," said Gardner.
"What can I do for ya?"
"I have to ask you some questions, some personal ones, that you are under orders to answer accurately."
Trip nodded.
"Have your CO and your XO ever had a relationship?"
"Yeah, they're friends."
"I mean a physical relationship." The man in his fifties seemed to frown and then clarified further when Trip didn't offer any info. "Sex."
"I haven't known them to be intimate." Trip squirmed. "I don't think they were having sex."
"Did Captain Archer have a cargo bay full of trellium that remained unused because she wouldn't be able to tolerate it … trellium that would've protected Enterprise in your mission to destroy the Xindi weapon?"
"Well, sure, but--"
"Did Commander T'Pol offer to save the captain when he set course for Azati Prime?"
"Yeah, but--"
"Commander, did you remind T'Pol of her duty to her ship and crew? Did you remind her that during battle, the commander should not leave the ship?"
"I did. But, we were all worried about the captain. I mean, it's --"
"So, all of this is true, and you're telling me you never wondered … never considered the idea that they were in a relationship? A romantic one?"
Trip swallowed. The Admiral had asked him to be accurate, but suddenly he felt that he didn't want to entirely honest. If truth be told, before they entered the Expanse and at various intervals during their mission, he did wonder.
But not now, he reminded himself.
"Commander?" Gardner asked again.
"Nah. I mean … I know there weren't feelings other than friendship." The Southerner felt a little bold and decided to come clean. "Sir, I can say this because … it wasn't the captain that had a relationship with her. It was me."
Gardner stared at the screen for a few seconds and then his face gave way to a large frown.
"You?" he asked.
Trip agreed. "Yes, sir."
"You and the captain have been friends a long time." The man shook his head. "I think it's noble for you to protect him, Tucker, but this is serious business. We know Archer's the father of that baby."
Trip was about to explain, but the admiral cut him off.
Gardner said, "I'd like your communications officer to download Captain Archer's and Commander T'Pol's personal logs and give them to me. I'd like to receive it by morning."
Trip knew Ensign Sato could do it. "I don't know--"
The Drip didn't give him a chance to negotiate.
"I'll talk with you again tomorrow."
And then the connection faded to black. Trip didn't even get a chance to say "yes, sir." With a sigh, the engineer left the Ready Room and scanned the bridge.
By now, word had already made the rounds a few times, thanks to the grapevine, that the captain and T'Pol were in a liaison. It's why Malcolm had a grimace on his face, one marred with confusion; the Brit held high expectations for his captain and the news was like kicking the stool out from under him. Trip had tried to explain, and Reed spent a lot of time nodding his head, but the guy still looked like he'd taken it in the gut. Trip had heard rumblings around the ship, despite telling crewmen to "mind their damned business" without much success.
People will talk. That's just a fact of life.
There was one bright side: at least he could give orders without tiptoeing around the problem.
"Hoshi, Admiral Gardner wants you to download Captain Archer's and T'Pol's personal logs by morning."
The woman knitted her brow and scrunched up the side of her face with disgust, while crossing her arms.
She asked, "Aren't those called 'personal logs' for a reason?"
Trip found himself quoting Starfleet text, which he hated.
"The captain and T'Pol recorded them using Starfleet equipment. So, it belongs to Starfleet."
Hoshi blew out a sigh, the kind Tucker felt was bubbling inside him, and then slipped out of her chair. Just as she was about to whiz past him, he caught her arm.
"I don't like this either, but I think it'll help clear them." Trip turned to level his gaze at Malcolm. "They didn't do anything wrong. And whatever we can do to help should suffice."
Reed's eyes fell back on his console, brooding and mulling it over, while Hoshi relaxed at the information. She took a few strides toward the door and said under her breath, something Trip picked up, a few words.
"I hope you're right," she said.
Me, too, Trip thought. Me, too.
TBC