Spoiler: Regeneration and First Flight
Notes: The poem Roadways, which is mentioned, was written by John Masefield. I've added the entire poem at the end of this chapter. Masefield is the same man who wrote Sea Fever. The lines 'And all I ask is a tall ship, And a star to steer her by, are from that poem. They are on a plaque on Kirk's Enterprise.
Thanks to: Monica for all the proofing and support and to Lisa for Japanese tea information and an afternoon of encouragement.
Enjoy!
Ch 12 The Crossroad Of Yesterday And Tomorrow
It was late, when T'Pol headed to the Mess Hall for her usual cup of tea. If she were Human she would call it habit, but since she was not, she thought of it as her nightly routine, much like meditation. But unlike meditation, this routine included another individual, Jonathan Archer. As she approached the entrance, deep rowdy voices caused her to stop and peek around the doorframe. She heard Commander Tucker belch loudly, and watched as Jonathan slapped the table and laughed uproariously. A frown marred her brow as she tried to understand what the Commander had said or done that would cause such an exaggerated reaction, but the odd humor was lost on her. Stepping closer, but still staying out of sight, she noticed they were slouched in their chairs, their hair was disheveled and there was a sharp fragrance in the air she could not place.
She closed her eyes for a moment before she turned to head back toward the lift. Just outside the safety of her mental shields she sensed the calm of harmony. It appeared as if the men had mended their friendship, which had been badly shaken due to the problems with the Vissian first contact. Their ability to put their professional differences aside and continue on with their personal lives was a mark in their favor. Though Human male bonding was good for them, it was something she wanted no part of. It was usually loud, crude and often included much imbedding in alcohol. 'Ah, yes,' she thought as she remembered the smell that had made her nose twitch. The bottle on the table between the men looked like the one Jonathan used when he would occasionally pour himself a drink. She believed it was a fermented beverage called scotch.
As she rounded the last bend before the lift, she came face to face with Hoshi Sato. "Good evening, Ensign."
"Sub-Commander," the younger woman nodded, but kept her head down and her eyes on the deck.
"Ensign, are you ill?" T'Pol blocked her way with a gentle hand on her arm, but drew it back quickly when she realized she had intruded on the other woman's private space. It was obvious the young Human was in distress, but the Vulcan was unsure what to do about it.
"No, Ma'am, I'm just…." Hoshi gasped and covered her mouth with her hand as she heard deep male voices echoing off the curved walls of the corridor as they came closer and closer to where the women were standing. One of them had a southern lilt and belonged to the last person she wanted to run into.
T'Pol looked over her shoulder toward the noise of the approaching men behind them, then at the distressed look on the young woman's face. It only took her a moment to size up the situation. When the lift doors opened, she pulled Hoshi in with her and used her command codes to execute an emergency lockout. The doors slammed shut and would not have let anyone open them, without the correct override procedure. The last thing she saw was the look on the faces of two rather surprised men, as they were denied entrance to a lift that was feet away.
"Hoshi." Trip whispered, as the closing door separated him from the woman he wanted to hold in his arms. He'd only seen her for a second, but he hadn't missed the tears that ran down her face.
Hoshi heard the anguish in Trip's voice and leaned against the wall of the lift, unable to move or think.
T'Pol had felt her stomach clench when her eyes had met Jonathan's. For a moment she had felt a rush of warmth, followed by a pounding deep in her chest as her mind asked, 'is this what happens when Human emotions engulf a male and female?' The pounding had turned to an icy thud when she thought she heard Jonathan whisper. 'Not us, never us.' But his lips had not moved. She could not have heard his voice! It was a relief when the doors had closed and had hidden eyes that burned into hers with green fire.
The ride to C deck was a quiet one as both women tried not to think of the men that they had left behind. "Thank you, Sub-Commander." Hoshi swallowed and stood straighter as the lift opened.
"I had been going to the Mess Hall for tea when I heard them." T'Pol's voice cracked and she blinked as she refused to listen to the voices shouting in her head. A deep cleansing breath allowed her to find her center and she told herself 'I was only reacting to the emotions that had been flying between the Ensign and the Commander. I myself am completely unaffected!' To prove it she tried her voice again. "It has been my experience that no female of any species should have to endure males when they express their regard for one another."
"I know exactly what you mean." Hoshi tried to smile, but it was hard when she was still hurting. "I have a little of my grandmother's roasted green tea left, if you'd care to join me?" It was a remedy the old lady had used whenever any of her grandchildren had needed cheering up. To this day just the fragrance of the ground leaves in the canister was enough to fill Hoshi with calm happy memories.
"Another time perhaps." T'Pol nodded and hoped her words were the correct ones to use with a young Human female whose feelings were out of control. At the moment her need to meditate, and close out the emotions that bombarded her from all directions was more important than the illogical pleasure she received from warm tea sliding over her palate.
"I know Vulcans don't need people the way Humans do, but if you ever want some company, the offer for tea is always open."
"I will keep that in mind, Ensign."
The use of her title made Hoshi very aware that there was more she needed to say. "Sub-Commander, I want to thank you for acting so quickly. I really didn't want to run into him." She whispered, knowing that T'Pol knew exactly whom she was talking about and most likely why, as well. It was embarrassing to know that most of the ship probably realized she and Trip had been having an affair, and that it was over. "I also want to assure you, that it will never happen again. I shouldn't have let myself get involved with him, but I did…now…well…I have to deal with it."
"Ensign, you have been very careful to keep your work and personal life separate, and I know the Captain has chosen to ignore relationships that have grown up among crewmembers, as long as those involved maintained a professional interaction when on duty." There was a good deal she would have liked to ask Hoshi, but to do so would be to show emotion. As it was, she had already intervened inappropriately.
"Captain Archer knows?" Hoshi gasped.
"We have never discussed it, but I do not think much goes on aboard Enterprise that he does not know about." T'Pol shrugged, it was a gesture she had picked up from Jonathan, but was unaware of it. "And he and the Commander have been friends for a long time. Certainly they would have discussed it."
"I hope not." Tears filled Hoshi's eyes and she sniffed in an attempt to gain control over them. "If you will excuse me, Sub-Commander, I'm sorry, I've been more of an imposition than usual." The young woman turned and practically fled down the corridor to her quarters.
"It was not…an imposition…" T'Pol shook her head knowing her words had not been heard. She was left alone with emotions resounding all around her. "How had Humans survived as long as they had with feelings that tore them apart?' She wondered, as she too escaped to her quarters to spend a good part of the night meditating. The voices she had been hearing, all to often, needed to be calmed and brought under control. At first they had only been whispers, but since her encounter with the Wisp they invaded her dreams and most recently they would intrude at odd times when her concentration was needed the most. 'I am here to influence the Humans, not the other way around!' She reminded herself during the long night, while she fought inappropriate images of Jonathan.
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When the lift doors had closed on the men, both had been surprised. Trip had pounded them with his fist in frustration, but the Captain has been unable to do anything but stand there. 'Damn, I must be drunk!' Jonathan shook his head to clear it. If he were sober he would have been sure he had heard T'Pol asking him about Human emotions. 'That's the last time I try to go one-on-one with Trip when he's armed with a bottle of scotch.'
"Come on, we're both too old for this kind of nonsense." He understood his friend's anger, because part of him had wanted to force his way onto the lift, too. He would have pulled T'Pol into his arms, and kissed that Vulcan calm right off her face. He thanked the powers that be that he'd realized it was the alcohol talking, because he'd been seconds away from using his override codes, that would have trapped the lift open and the women within their reach.
"Why'd she have'ta close us out?" The engineer growled. "I wanted to talk to Hoshi."
"No you didn't my friend!" Archer shook his head at the younger man. He was glad when the lift arrived. The temptation to follow the women was growing and he was just sober enough to realize it would be a huge mistake. "We've both had too much to drink and that is not the way to impress a woman." He guided Tucker aboard and pushed the button for B deck.
"I'm not that drunk." Trip leaned against the wall of the lift, so he wouldn't lose his balance. He was darned if he'd let his friend see that he could hardly stand. "Besides she'd been cryin'." It had torn at his heart to see her that way.
"Remember what we talked about, you were going to give her some time." Jon warned when the doors opened and they negotiated the corridor to Trip's quarters.
"Time! There's no time like the present! I just wanna hold her, it'll make her stop cryin'." He doubted his words made much sense, but the feelings behind them made all the sense in the world. "She's so tiny and gentle, if I keep on holdin' on to her it'll make all the bad go away." Trip stumbled and would have fallen if Archer hadn't caught his arm and guided him to the bed.
"Thanks ol' buddy I owe you one, an I never forget a favor." He whispered as he turned on his side and rubbed his nose into his pillow. "Hhhhhmmmm it smells like her." He smiled and rubbed his face against the scent of the woman he wished he was holding.
"Whoa…that's more information than I want." Jonathan shook his head and reached for a blanket to cover the drowsy man.
"Jon?"
"Get some sleep, you're going to feel like hell in the morning."
"You love her don'tcha?" The engineer's tongue had trouble forming the words, but he was finally able to get his question out.
"Hoshi?" Archer blinked in surprise. He had a great regard for the linguist and had felt a brotherly protectiveness for her since he'd enticed her onto Enterprise three weeks early, but he didn't love her.
"Naw." Trip muttered into his pillow. "T'Pol, you lo, you lov…" Unable to coordinate his speech, he gave up. The unfinished sentence was left hinging in the air between them, but it spoke volumes of its own, as he passed out. The scotch had finally won.
Jonathan walked closer to his friend and gave his shoulder a good shake; to be sure he was really asleep. "Fraid so, old friend, now if I could just figure out what to do about it."
He looked around Trip's quarters one last time before turning out the lights. When he saw the top of the sleeping man's dresser he was gut punched by a shaft of envy that hit so hard it took his breath away. There beside Trip's comb was a hairbrush with strands of long dark hair still clinging to the bristles. Hairpins and a pair of small silver earrings were sitting side by side with a memory chip and spanner that had yet to be returned to engineering. It was tangible evidence that a man and a woman had shared a life together, even if it had only been for a short while.
For just a moment Jonathan closed his eyes and pictured what his quarters could look like. There would be a statue of Surak above the desk, side-by-side with the one of Zephram Cochrane. A small red and gold brocade pillow would be next to his larger, plainer one, on the bed. In among his collection of books would be ones whose titles were written in Vulcan. On his dresser with his comb and razor, there would be a slim blue bottle that contained oil, which smelled like lemon and spices.
"Damn!" He muttered as he turned out the light and left Trip sleeping. "Damn I gotta stay away from the booze, it makes me imagine things." But in his heart he knew he'd seen what his future could be like. It was either that, or loneliness, because fate had dealt him a wicked hand. The one woman he knew he would spend the rest of his life loving, was one who didn't understand the emotion.
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Earth, 5 years before Enterprise left to take Klaang home:
Quinton Williams had been a brash, fast moving test pilot with Star Fleet, when he'd made the biggest mistake of his life. He'd gotten caught half naked with Admiral Periwinkle's completely naked daughter. The error had been a costly one. It had ended his marriage to his socially prominent wife, and his career had ground to a halt. In the Admiral's wrath he'd had the young Lieutenant transferred to Section 31. It was a dead end job, in a dead end department. The Section had taken its name from sub-section 31 to the Earth-Vulcan Trade Agreement. It stated that Earth would assign an Administrator Of Security over all computers used in correspondence with the Vulcans. But since the Vulcans had supplied the encryption codes, it was a security department in name only.
From his closet sized office, tucked away in a corner of one of the few remaining buildings of old Fort Baker, Quinton was aware of the action going on across the grounds at Star Fleet Headquarters. In his windowless room he couldn't see it, and had little hope of ever again taking part in it, as anything but an errand boy. The irony made his punishment all the worse, to always be on the periphery of power, but never be allowed to participate.
Over the years, as Williams' quiet anger grew, he discovered another kind of power. The kind that came with secrets and secrecy. His security clearance had been upgraded due to the intended nature of his new post, but he found the only times he used it, were when he was called upon to act as a courier. It hadn't taken him long to realize the value of the information contained in the documents he was carrying. Once that happened, anything that came his way was copied prior to delivery. Next he began to change his image. Gone was the dominant career driven man, and in his place was born a silent, almost non-existent persona. He became a master at fading into the woodwork, until men who should have known better, began to talk openly in front of him, forgetting he was there, and adding to his store of secrets.
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7 hours after the Artic research vessel blasted out of Earth's atmosphere:
Williams paced as he listened to the reports that were coming in about the expedition to the Artic that had been lead by Dr. Alexander Drake, and the words 'damage control,' whispered through his head.
He'd given Drake the okay to search for the debris that was rumored to be hidden under feet of ice and snow. He'd even set it up so it would appear to have been sanctioned by Star Fleet. When in reality he'd pulled a few strings at the Admiralty and dangled the bait in front of Forrest's nose, to get the funding for the project. But the Doctor would have reported to him, and he would have passed on only what he wanted Star Fleet to know.
Now Admiral Forrest was in it up to his eyebrows. He'd even been to visit the dig site. But worst of all Forrest had contacted Enterprise to have them intercept the fleeing vessel.
"Damnit!" Williams ground his teeth as he read the report. "Damn Enterprise and damn Archer!" 'That should have been my ship!' He'd been a fast track Star Fleet officer and a hotshot pilot just starting out in the warp 2 program. It didn't matter if Archer had been further along than he had been, he would have surpassed him. He was sure of it, but one social blunder and he'd been reduced to a paper pusher! He remembered Commander Archer from those days; the man had been a stuffed-shirt, nose to the grindstone no-nothing. If Granite-Jaw Jon's father hadn't invented the engine, Williams was sure the son would have amounted to nothing.
At the moment he didn't have time for the past, he had the present to take care of. Pulling a cigar out of his pocket, he picked up his communicator and made a few discrete calls. Over the years he'd amassed a power structure that spread to all branches of the government and even into the private sector. Nothing happened on Earth or Mars Colony that he didn't know about and if he chose, have a hand in.
It had been over two years since Quinton Williams had used his present rank of Commander, for anything except the occasional dealing with Star Fleet. His real power lay in the organization he'd created, and hidden from the universe. This was its first real test; everything else had been child's play in comparison. Section 31 would stand or fall on the outcome of this fiasco. He wanted any and all information that was to be had on the find in the Artic and he and his operatives were going to get it one way or another.
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"Ooohhh!" Trip Tucker gasped as Enterprise was hit by weapon's fire, and he reached for the nearest handrail to keep from going headfirst off the scaffold beside the warp core. His head pounded, and he swore that if he could only live long enough to keep his engines intact, he'd never touch alcohol again. Hangovers were a bitch and he had the mother and father of all hangovers! Now was not the time to have to get into a shootin' war.
He had a vague memory of Jon draggin' him out of the Mess Hall the night before, and he thought they'd run into Hoshi, not long after that, and she'd been real upset. But two hours ago when the senior staff had met for a briefing, she'd looked right through him in a cool calm way that told him, he must'a dreamt that he'd seen her cryin'.
"Damn you Cap'n, is this revenge cause I drank you under the table last night?" He shook his fist, at his COM unit, as the ship rocked again, almost tossing him to the deck. They'd been on the trail of some aliens that'd been buried in the Artic for 100 years. When Enterprise had received an automated distress call from a Tarklian freighter, Archer had gambled that the same aliens they were chasing were involved. If the weapon's fire was any proof, it appeared as if the Captain had been correct. "Why the hell couldn't those scientists have left them sleepin' where they were?" Trip had gotten a good look at the pictures that Forrest had sent them. At the moment he figured he felt as bad as they looked.
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Hoshi still trembled inside, while she quietly fed Dr. Phlox's animals. Her mind kept playing over and over again, the moment on the bridge when Captain Archer had quietly asked T'Pol if there was an outer hatch near the junction where the cybernetically infected Tarkalians were in a firefight with Malcolm and his team. What she'd seen had made her feel like a voyeur, as she'd sat at her station, unable to tear her eyes off the Captain and Sub-Commander, as they'd worked like two people with one mind. Words had been almost non-existent, but their actions had been clear and concise.
One moment Archer had been giving orders for Reed to pull his team back behind a locked bulkhead, and the next T'Pol's hands had flown over her console. Hoshi remembered feeling faint at the ramifications of what was happening. She had pictured in her mind, an outer hatch opening and bodies being sucked into the vacuum of space. It had happened in less than a minute, but it had seemed like forever. Then when it was over and Archer's face was a mirror of his pain, a few whispered words from the woman at his left, and it appeared as if the pain became hers and his began to ease. Hoshi was still feeling the waves of sadness that had swept through her then. She had witnessed a private moment and envied them their connection.
"Hoshi?" Phlox called to her from where he was working to find a cure for the nanoprobes he'd been infected with. "Earlier you asked if there was anything you could do for me, there may be something."
"Anything, all you have to do is ask." She wanted to help the Doctor anyway she could and was glad for the relief of someone to talk to.
"When the time comes, I may not be around to ask it." He fidgeted with the slide he'd been examining.
"Don't say that!"
"It must be said, Hoshi." He took a deep breath and fought to drown out the alien voices that were whispering along his nerves and creeping toward his brain. "In the very near future, T'Pol may need someone to be there for her. If I am not here, you are the only other person she might turn to."
"What about Captain Archer?" From what she'd seen that afternoon, it was obvious they looked to one another for support.
"No, if her need arises, he is not the one she would be able to go to." The Doctor's quiet words shook her to her foundation.
"But---." In one sentence, Phlox had verified all that she'd believed about the Captain and the Sub-Commander, but it didn't sound as if he thought there was going to be a happy ending for them, either.
"Just promise me. She is Vulcan and has no experience dealing with certain Human emotions, but I have seen evidence lately, that you are well versed in the matter. You could be a great help to her." As Hoshi nodded her replay and fought a feeling of numb despair, he turned back to his work.
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Archer had no idea what time it was. His body hurt and so did his soul. For the first time in his life he understood the meaning of the phrase, 'a captain under God.' And he knew that he'd feel the weight of the responsibility for a long time to come. The fighting to keep Enterprise from being taken over by the cybernetic creatures had been vicious. Many of the decisions he'd had to make would haunt him, but his crew had lived and that was what was important. By some miracle even Phlox had survived the intense radiation that was necessary to kill the nanoprobes that had been injected into his body. He knew that any Human would have died from the treatment the Denobulan had prescribed for himself.
The whole business had been a messy one, but the final straw had been the message he'd just received from Admiral Forrest. Someone very high up in Star Fleet had pulled some strings, and all the information Enterprise had collected on the Artic Incident, as it was being called, was to be sent back, heavily encrypted, marked top secret and compartmentalized. Not even the Vulcans were to be told about it. Everyone on board was under orders to act as if it had never happened.
He stood up and stretched, as he reached for his uniform, but changed his mind. He'd wandered the halls of the ship late at night in sweats and a t-shirt plenty of times, why should now be any different. He needed to talk to T'Pol before she sent a report to the High Command, at least that was the reason he gave himself as he slipped out of his quarters and walked a few feet down the corridor to hers.
"Come in," her sleep muffled voice called out in answer to the ringing of her bell.
"I needed to talk to you." He moved to the foot of her bed and sat down. It may not have been his wisest choice, but he wanted to be near her and she didn't appear to object.
"How may I help you, Jonathan." She curled her legs beneath her and sat up in bed, with the covers around her waist.
'How could she help me? If the situation weren't so serious I'd tell her how she could help me, all right!" He ground his teeth as his desire for her mounted. It may not have been such a good idea to come. She sat, innocently covered in green silk that his hands itched to explore, and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. "I've just heard from Admiral Forrest. It seems as if someone in Star Fleet doesn't want anyone to know what's happened out here." He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, at both the situation and her. 'Doesn't she know what she's doing to me?' "Don't they realize they're playing with future lives here! This should go down in the history books in huge red letters three feet high!"
"If you truly believe that Dr. Cochrane spoke the truth about first contact, and the aliens from the future that tried to stop it, did you never wonder way he chose to remain silent on the matter? Then when he did speak of it one time, he recanted his statement?" After all that they had seen today, it added credit to the 89-year-old article that Jonathan had shown her, but she still was not ready to believe in time traveling aliens and Earthmen from the future, not yet anyway.
"You're talking about government suppression of facts." He shook his head in denial. "But this is 2153, I thought we were past all that by now. Didn't Earth learn anything from the Third World War?"
"It is not only Earth." She moved closer, her hand hovering over his. "You will not need to ask me to refrain from sending a report to the High Command, because I had no plans to do so." She read the surprise on his face and it made her stomach queasy. "They would never believe me and it would be one more thing to tarnish the credibility of Enterprise and her captain."
"If we keep quiet, we're setting a death trap for our children's children, and many generations after that."
"Or are we preventing a temporal paradox?" Her brow rose as she tried to think like a Human. "If what Cochrane said in that commencement address was true, then the timeline had been contaminated on the day of first contact. In theory we're setting it right."
"I thought you said you don't believe in time travel?" It always amazed him how Vulcans could turn a statement inside out to make an argument come out the way they wished, and still make it sound logical! But when she knelt on her bed so close to him that he could almost feel the heat radiating off her body, he would have been willing to believe almost anything she had to say.
"Jonathan, I---." She reached for his hand and her mind was hit with a blast of heat so intense it blew down her shields and wiped away her thoughts. Passion curled in her stomach and danced over her skin. Her mind fought to clear, to find some remnant of a barrier to hide behind as the wildness shook her to her foundation.
"T'Pol?" He pulled his hand free and reached for her shoulders in an attempt to reassure her. He felt as if he was drowning in her nearness, but his worry for her outweighed his own needs.
"No, Jonathan." She whispered as she licked her dry lips and shrank back, breaking all contract between them. Slowly her mental shields began to reassert themselves, but they were wobbly, and she knew if he touched her again, they would never survive it. "Please Jonathan, I am tired," she whispered. "We can finish this discussion in the morning?"
He watched her face as she fought to gain control and almost lost. Emotions danced through her eyes and it felt as if they grazed his skin. "Can we?" His words caught in his throat as he tried to understand what she was really saying.
"Of course," her voice steadied. "We can discuss Dr. Cochrane anytime you wish."
"Dr. Cochrane?" Jonathan nodded, as his suspicions were confirmed. She was still hiding from him and herself. But for one moment he'd looked her full in the face and his feelings had been mirrored there. Then the moment was gone, hidden behind her Vulcan mask, a mask that was getting harder and harder for her to rebuild.
Long after he left, T'Pol huddled in the corner, watching the stars as Enterprise moved through space. She kept telling herself to get up and meditate, but her body was too tired to listen to her mind. She could only guess at what had happened between them and none of the answers she came up with were logical or possible according to what she had been taught. She would have given a great deal to speak to an older Vulcan woman, but that was not a possibility, so she needed to find the answers herself, not even Phlox could help her with this.
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It took them two days to repair the damages to Enterprise that the fight with the cybernetic beings had caused. Days that were spent traveling at low warp while anyone, with the knowledge to do so, helped overhaul the EPS manifold, and the surrounding circuits and boards. Archer complied with Star Fleet and sent back all the information they had gathered on the beings and gave strict orders to his crew to forget the incident ever happened.
Jonathan and T'Pol never did finish their conversation about Zephram Cochrane. He hadn't expected they would, because the important things that had been said between them had had nothing to do with the legendary inventor. Archer took the advice he'd given Trip about Hoshi. In his case it was to step back and give T'Pol all the time and space she needed. He knew with a certainty that if he pushed her she would bolt and be gone from his life forever. Whether what had happened had been wishful thinking, a trick of the light, or a moment of truth, he didn't know, but he planned on finding out and if she left, he'd never get the answers he needed.
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On Earth, Quinton Williams gathered together his purloined data and slipped away into the night. The only calling card he left was an explosion that rocked the Artic, causing avalanche after avalanche, which buried the dig site and the surrounding area under tons of ice and snow. It wasn't until later that Star Fleet discovered its computers had been purged of any reference to the beings or the site. What happened to the information, no one knew. What happened to Williams, no one was ever sure. Those who knew him well enough to care, were relieved he was gone. The others didn't miss the quiet faceless man he'd become.
Over the years, rumors would float back to Star Fleet about sightings, and strange occurrences, but no one believed it was anything of importance. Even when his legacy of silent power had grown to the point it was almost unstoppable, most refused to believe in a secret organization of that magnitude. Since power and secrecy tended to feed on itself, there was no warning left behind for future generations of the death and destruction that was growing with each new species it assimilated, until one day it would move quietly out of the Delta Quadrant and strike.
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The evening before repairs to Enterprise were completed, Ensign Mayweather and T'Pol discovered a comet with a meandering orbit. They spent hours at the main computer running equations simulating its track through the universe for the next 100 years. Late that night Archer went to the Mess for coffee and discovered them with their heads bent over a map that Travis had made when he was a child.
"If our calculations are correct, the comet will skim past Beta Magellan in about five years." Travis grinned as he made light crosshatch marks on his map.
"They are correct, Ensign." The Sub-Commander sipped her tea, as she examined the paper in front of her. "The planets shown here are all the ones you plan to visit?"
"Yes Ma'am," he grinned. Both were unaware of the Captain watching them from the door. "I made this map when I was growing up. When I was a teenager, I added more and more star systems. My mom saved it for me, all these years, and gave it to me when I was visiting a few weeks ago." He rolled his eyes at the odd things moms did, but he was glad she had. "I just wished I could've found the poem my sister gave me when I started making this map."
"Is it about star charts?" Thanks to Hoshi, T'Pol was learning more and more about Earth literature, but her knowledge of poetry was limited. The High Command found such writing frivolous and therefore diplomats only read enough to speak with knowledge, when attending functions sponsored by a Human host.
"No Ma'am." Travis smiled at her and tried to remember as much as he could of the poem. "It's called Roadways, and is written by the English poet, John Masefield. My favorite lines are the ones I remember the best. 'My road calls me, lures me, West east, south and north, Most roads lead men homeward, My road leads me forth.' It was written about the sea, but it could've been written about space travel."
"'Most roads lead men homeward, My road leads me forth.'" T'Pol let the words play across her tongue. "You are correct, Ensign, it could have been." It could have been written about her, too, but it was not something she could tell anyone. The longer she spent on the Earth ship, the less she thought about Vulcan.
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Enterprise had tracked the comet for three days, when they discovered a large unmarked density. It had nothing to do with the comet, but could be a find of much greater interest. Archer was convinced it was a patch of dark matter, maybe even a nebula, though his Science Officer argued against it.
"Hoshi, would you have Trip come into my office." Archer called over the COM. He'd received a message from Admiral Forrest fifteen minutes earlier, which had brought the speculation of the existence of the nebula to a halt.
T'Pol had returned to her station and watched as the Commander left the bridge. Something had happened, and it had to do with Captain Archer. She knew it, but she could not explain how she had come by the information. She tried to remain busy, but her mind kept straying back to the closed office door.
"Malcolm," the odd inflection in Trip's voice when he reappeared on the bridge, made everyone look up. "The Captain wants you to have a Shuttlepod ready in two hours. He's gonna explore the dark matter ahead. If ya need me, I'll be in the docking bay modifying some spatial charges with metreon particle warheads."
Trip took two involuntary steps toward Hoshi, whose eyes hadn't left his face since he came out of the office. When she looked quickly down, he stopped and shook his head. 'Damn I need you Darlin,' he gripped his fists to keep from going any further. It was clear she still didn't want anything to do with him. He was upset over the death of a friend and this was no time to push her, or he'd lose her for sure. T'Pol had sat as a silent spectator of the interplay between the two younger people, but she was still caught off guard when Commander Tucker walked quietly over to her.
"Sub-Commander." He spoke just above a whisper, and she could read emotions of loss and worry on his face. "I need a favor. It's for the Cap'n really. He's had some bad news. Could you go with him to explore the area of density ahead?"
"I do not understand." She was unprepared for the request. The last thing she wanted to do was spend hours alone in a small shuttle with Jonathan Archer. It was too dangerous to her newly constructed mental shields.
"A colleague of ours died, and Jon's takin' it pretty hard." Trip cleared his throat
"I would think as his friend, you would be the more appropriate one to go along."
"I offered, but he turned me down flat." Trip smiled sadly. "He says he wants to do this alone."
"Then we should respect his wishes." She could see the fault in her argument, though it was a statement of pure logic.
"No, not this time. He'd be better off with someone there. Jon and Cap'n Robinson went back a long way, but I don't suppose that's somethin' a Vulcan can understand." Trip shrugged as he fought his doubts about the woman, because he believed it would be the best thing for his friend. "Someone should go along with him, and I think you're the one who will do him the most good."
"I----." She was not sure what to say. Every logical voice inside of her told her it would be an unwise move.
"Please." He looked over his shoulder to be sure Archer was still in his office. "I know you're the one he talks to." There, he'd said the words out loud. Somehow it made the changes in his relationship with his friend easier to accept. All during the final year of Enterprise's construction and the first few months of the mission, it had been the two of them, and then things had begun to change. Trip had finally realized that they'd both gone past the point where the most important person in your life was your buddy. Somewhere in the last 130 light years, they'd grown up and that meant into adult relationships with women. Never before had either man had a woman in his life who couldn't be left behind at a moments notice, now it seemed like both of them were on the brink of changing all that.
"All right, Commander." She gave in, against her better judgment. "If you really think it is necessary.
"I really do, Sub-Commander, it's just that I'm not sure how you're gonna convince him of that." Tucker frowned at the problem.
"I believe I have a plan that will leave him no choice but to let me join him." She looked at him with eyes as innocent as a babe's. "You are familiar with Star Fleet's rule that a captain may not leave his ship unaccompanied?"
"There's no such rule." Trip challenged.
"Are you sure, Commander?" T'Pol raised her brow in skepticism. "I believe there is, or perhaps it is a Vulcan directive. I would have to look it up, but that would take hours of digging through the database. Since Captain Archer is in a hurry to depart, I'll assume, for the sake of protocol, that it is Star Fleet's. Therefore it is necessary I should join him. If he disagrees with me, when I board his craft, I'll offer him the option of checking."
"Aaahh…" He grinned. "I've always known you were a devious woman, Sub-Commander, I just never appreciated how devious before."
"There is a difference between a logical plan that is executed with precision and being devious, Commander Tucker." She nodded and turned back to her work.
"Well I guess I been told." He muttered to himself, as he headed for the lift. He didn't care what she called it; devious was devious, even if it was done with logic!
………………………
Two hours later Jonathan Archer found his Shuttlepod invaded by a Vulcan, armed with sensor enhancements, and logical arguments. When he gave up with nothing more than token resistance, he told himself it had been easier and wasted less time that way. He ignored the calming affect her presence had on his troubled mind, and blocked out how pleased he was that she obviously knew he was upset and wanted to help him. If he didn't know better, he'd swear she was there to give emotional support.
As she closed and locked the Shuttlepod door, T'Pol could feel Jonathan's sorrow echoing off the walls, but it had a strange quality to it, almost as if he was trying to keep it in. She watched his face carefully, and because she knew him so well, she saw the unhappiness, but to others he would appear only serious and introspective. She told herself it was not healthy for a Human to keep such a tight control over his emotions, and that was the reason she had offered to let him join her in meditation. After all she was Vulcan and would never worry about an individual, it was not in her nature.
When Jonathan began to talk of his friend AG Robinson and the early days of the NX Test Program, T'Pol lowered her mental shields slightly. She discovered, that unlike the last few times they had been alone together, there was no mind shaking resonance, just a gentle familiar presence. It made her wonder if it had been there at all, or if it had been just another of the bad dreams and odd turns of imagination, which she kept telling herself were a result of some minor damage from the Pa'nar Syndrome and her battle to fend off the Wisp.
During the long flight, she was very careful not to touch him, even when she knew he would have benefited from it, as he had when he had been so upset over the Vissian Cogenitor's death. She remained strong in her resolve until the moment when she stared out the view screen and the universe in front of them exploded in color that appeared to go on forever. It did not help that she was leaning close to him and could smell the warm male fragrance of him. For a moment she did not care about the vista in front of her, she turned and watched Jonathan as he watched the sight he had competed against Robinson for the right to see. She was glad he had called her back from her workstation to share this with him.
"T'Pol," he whispered, as he slid over in the pilot's seat to make room for her. "Come here? You can see better." His hand spread against the contour of her back as he guided her from the uncomfortable position of leaning over beside him, to the crowded one of sharing his seat. He turned toward her and found green eyes that matched the intensity of his own.
For a moment she stiffened and felt his arm loosen around her. He had given her a choice; to stay or pull way, it was up to her. Without thinking, she sighed and leaned back against him, her shoulder over-lapping his, and her arm rested on his thigh with her hand curled lightly against his knee. Under her left ear, she felt the reassuring thud of his carotid artery. It echoed through her body as she leaned back and let him support her weight.
Every time T'Pol peeked around her mental shields, her mind saw explosions of color that took her breath away. She had no frame of reference for what was happening, but was sure there were unbridled emotions running wild and free beneath the color. She was careful and knew it was in her best interest to keep her shields carefully in place. If it had not been for the foundation of trust that she had formed with the man who held her, she would have bolted to the other side of the shuttle and stayed there.
Time had no meaning as they watched the colors of excited dark matter that wrapped the little Shuttlepod in a cocoon of unimaginable beauty and bound the two who watched it one step closer to their destiny. Neither knew who was the first to come to his senses or the first to pull away. It was as if a decision was made and they both acted upon it.
"A most interesting phenomena." T'Pol whispered as she stood and moved to her seat. She ignored the sudden chill she felt when her body was no longer pressed against his. She would have felt the change in air temperature no differently if she had removed a jacket or blanket. And the echo of loss that sounded through her thoughts was no more than residual of the Captain's pain that had leaked through her mental shields due to close contact.
"Yes, indeed, it was." Jon smiled and silently thanked AG Robinson for one final parting gift. He knew his friend would have enjoyed the irony of Archer caring about a Vulcan and been even more amused to lend a helping hand in the unusual match.
The trip back to Enterprise was accomplished in silence. Something had happened to shift the relationship between Jonathan and T'Pol. Neither was quite sure what it was, but both knew that as long as they were isolated in the small craft, it was a real tangible thing. Both looked at it with a sense of accomplishment and neither was aware the other had felt it as well.
……………………
'Robinson Nebula, now why didn't I think of that myself. Probably because you kept me too distracted.' Jonathan shook his head as he watched the straight slim back of his Science Officer move quickly away from him. 'Will you never stop amazing me?' As he thought about the times they had shared together, he hoped to God not!
"Jon, you all right?" Trip came up behind his friend, who was standing staring off down the corridor.
"Sure, just thinking." He shrugged and hoped his face didn't give away too much.
"About Cap'n Robinson?"
"And other things. T'Pol helped me put it in perspective." Jonathan nodded. "AG once told me that Humans wouldn't be able to turn to the Vulcans every time they needed something unless we brought one along with us. Looks like I did just that." He laughed at the memory. "I'm glad I did. Both at the beginning of the mission, and this time."
"What da ya mean? It's a Star Fleet regulation, ya had to take someone along, who better than you're Science Officer." Trip figured the Cap'n might not be angry with T'Pol for pulling a fast one, but he might think differently about his Chief Engineer.
"Come on Trip, pull the other one!" He shook his head. Did people really think he was that naive? "AG and I had a hand in writing those rules. We figured one or the other of us was going to be commanding this ship, and we wanted to give ourselves some leeway."
Trip laughed. The Sub-Commander was wrong, there was no difference between being devious and making a logical plan and executing it with precision. It was nice to discover that it wasn't something that only the Vulcans were good at.
……………………….
T'Pol sat in calm silence in her quarters. The time spent with Jonathan Archer had been fulfilling. If she were Human, she would have smiled at the success of the venture. His pain had been eased, with no mental cost to her. Unlike many times in the past when she and the Captain had been alone together, there had been no jagged, disharmony that shattered her peace of mind.
It was only as sleep overtook her that she had a nagging memory of the deep animal emotions that had lurked beneath the surface of the calm. But she dismissed them as Human grief for a friend who had died. That dealt with, she turned over and slept. For the first time in a long while, no dreams invaded her mind. Instead she had a strong image of curling up against something secure and warm, which knocked down her mental shields and wrapped itself around her, until it became a part of her being. Sometime in the very early morning, the words of the poem that she had head recently invaded her sleep. Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth. As her unconscious mind shifted closer to the unknown security it had found, she muttered, "But we are home and you will always lead me forth."
TO BE CONTINUED
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Roadways
One road leads to London,
One road runs to Wales,
My road leads me seawards,
To the white dipping sails.
One road leads to the river,
As it goes singing slow;
My road leads me to shipping,
Where the bronzed sailors go.
Leads me lures me, calls me,
To salt green tossing sea;
A road without earth's road-dust
Is the right road for me.
A wet road heaving, shining
And wild with seagulls' cries.
A mad salt sea-wind blowing
The salt spray in my eyes.
My road calls me, lures me
West, east, south and north;
Most roads lead men homewards,
My road leads me forth.
To add more miles to the tally
Of gray miles left behind,
In quest of that one beauty
God put me here to find.
By
John Masefield