Back on the bridge, Archer and the rest of his crew were sitting quietly,
awaiting his orders. When the alarm on T'Pol's consol beeped quietly, he
stood up with a wince. Those chairs were comfortable, but sitting in them
for hours at a time could make anyone stiff.
"Drop to Impulse" he ordered Mayweather
He turned to T'Pol, awaiting her report. He noticed that she looked.different. Something about her had changed; something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"There is no debris, just the beacon." She told him softly.
It was retrieved by the transporter, and Trip went with T'Pol to figure out what had made the thing deploy. It was a silent ride down the Turbolift, and as her index finger reached out to press a key he noticed a dark green ribbon tied around her wrist. That's unusual, she never wears anything other than that catsuit, he thought briefly.
In a small, quiet part of engineering, they sat down to work. Trip got out his tools and began to tinker with the small, round orb. T'Pol, in the meantime, ran her scanner over it and reviewed her findings silently. After a good twenty minutes of silence, Trip sat back with a sigh.
"Well, I can't find out how ta open this damned thing. You havin' any luck with your scans?"
She didn't even bother to look up.
"It was deployed two days ago in the exact spot we found it. It contains information about the crew and their mission, but it is impossible to discover what happened."
Her voice was soft, and looking at her slightly bent figure, Trip guessed he knew what was wrong.
"You know it's not your fault."
She looked up, startled.
"I mean, there was no way we could have known; nothing we could do."
"I know."
Silence returned as Trip wondered whether or not he had comforted her. Finally, she spoke.
"I should report to the captain."
He nodded and followed her up to the bridge.
"What kind of ship was it?" Archer asked. T'Pol had just come upon him in his ready room, overlooking the star charts of the area.
"A medical supply ship." She answered passively
Archer almost itched to ask what was bothering her, but stopped himself just in time. She was Vulcan, and even if she was unhappy, she would rather eat meat than talk about her own emotions.
"How many were on board?" Again a shadow passed over her face before she pushed it away.
"Twenty-six."
He sighed. He had just conversed with Admiral Forrest, who had no doubt related the entire thing to Ambassador Soval by now. He was pretty sure that the Vulcans would squash his request to investigate further. Noticing that she was still standing, he changed subjects.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Not since this morning."
"Well, go eat something. You look like you need it. You can take the rest of the night off."
"I would prefer to continue working until my shift is over."
Again he failed to understand that look in her face. Defeated, he nodded. As she turned to go, he added,
"T'Pol, I'm sorry."
For a moment she looked back at him, almost as if she wanted to tell him something. The moment passed, and she responded,
"So am I."
5 Hours later, Archer looked in on his crew. It was 2200 hours, and the senior officers were all off duty, their consoles manned by silent ensigns. Only T'Pol was still at her consol.
"SubCommander, your shift ended two hours ago."
She gazed up at him, eyes dull and tired.
"I have been reviewing scans of this sector."
"What was so interesting that it took you five hours?"
"This area holds a number of ancient nebulas. They would be worth studying."
Archer knew a plea for an away mission when he heard one.
"Alright, you and Commander Tucker can take a shuttlepod first thing in the morning, but for now SubCommander, you better get to your quarters."
She obeyed and silently left her consol. In her quarters, she changed into her meditation robes and lit her candles. Not surprisingly, mediation escaped her again. Her stomach rumbled, and her head ached, but it was still astonishing when she felt wetness at the corner of her eyes. But she brushed them away with an agitated hand, blew out the candles, and got into bed. I will not let this beat me. She thought fiercely, appalled that she would resort to crying; the response actions of an toddler. Then she fell into an exhausted sleep.
The following morning, Hoshi, Malcolm, Trip and Travis were all in the situation room, awaiting the arrival of their captain and his second-in- command.
"Jeez, after that movie last night, I didn't sleep a wink." Hoshi commented with a yawn
"Don't like scary clowns, eh Hosh?" Travis joked. She gave him a playful shove.
"Not when your earliest memories of childhood trauma involve them. Trust me, you'd be scared too."
T'Pol entered, holding a mug of green tea. Trip noted that while the bags were gone from her eyes, she still didn't look too great. He also noticed that she still wore that ribbon around her wrist. Archer entered seconds later.
"What do we do today, sir?" Hoshi asked through a yawn.
Archer smiled at the young ensign. In just four months, she had come a long way.
"I've decided that T'Pol and Trip are going to take a shuttlepod out and for a while?"
"Shuttlepod?" Trip reiterated, glancing from the captain to the Vulcan.
"What for?"
"T'Pol believes the nebulas are worth exploring. You'll only be out for a few hours."
Trip shrugged. Archer dismissed them, and the two next in command made their way to the shuttlepod bay.
Things went rather slowly that morning. Absolutlely nothing happened on Enterprise. The same could be said about shuttlepod 2. After 3 hours of minimal conversation and more nebulas than he would ever want to see, the chief engineer thought he would scream in frustration. He had absolutlely nothing to do but look out through the viewport, and then back to T'Pol, who looked as passive as ever.
The truth of the matter, however, was very different. T'Pol appeared calm, but she was slowly losing the battle against her rising emotions. And she knew it too. She knew it was only a matter of time before her mental restraints broke. She could only prolong the inevitable, but not for too much longer. To ease the struggle, she threw herself into her work. Any idleness would allow thoughts of Emris flood her brain, and that would certainly lead to disgrace, particularly since she was with the Commander. He was the one who often managed agitated her, and to minimize any possibilities of strife between them, she opted to say as little as possible. But Trip wouldn't have it.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?"
"My scans."
"Anythin' interesting'?"
"Several things. Would you like to see them?"
He laughed, not sure if she was serious or sarcastic.
"T'Pol cut the act."
She looked up at him, a hint of her usual condescension in her face.
"I do not know what you mean, Commander."
He sighed. She was going to be difficult. But then again, Vulcans were always difficult, he thought to himself wryly.
"Look, I know you're tryin' ta hid it and all, but to be honest with ya, its not workin'."
"I am not hiding anything." She answered, but her voice sounded a bit strange. Trip pressed his point, not sure where this was going.
"Somethin' been botherin' ya since we picked up scans of that beacon. I know you like your privacy and all, but we can tell."
If he hadn't spent the last 4 months with her, he would have sworn that she looked alarmed. But T'Pol didn't become alarmed, he reassured himself.
"We?"
"The senior officers. The capn' asked me if I knew what was goin' on. I have to admit, I'm in the dark as much as the rest of 'em."
T'Pol averted her gaze, and he waited for her to respond. Seconds like hours passed before she muttered something incomprehensible.
"What was that?"
"I said I am in mourning."
"Well, 'course you are. I would be too. But T'Pol, we've been through this, and I know its hard, but you've gotta let it go."
"It is more difficult than you imagine."
Again he waited, feeling that she was about to spill about the whole thing.
"I.knew someone on board the Kev'Lir. He and I were.close, to say the least. I am disturbed by his death."
There, that was it. She once again became tight lipped, and lifted defiant, challenging eyes to his face, daring him to say something or make a pun about her inability to control and conceal her emotions. Instead, the SubCommander was shocked to see sympathy and empathy written plainly across his features.
"Jesus Christ T'Pol, I had no idea. I'm real sorry."
She relaxed slightly.
"Thank you."
"Is there anythin'.erm.that I can do for ya?"
"No, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention in to anyone. I'm sure you understand it is a very private matter."
He nodded vigorously, and returned to staring out into the latest nebula, which had suddenly become fascinating.
"It is interesting, however," she mused.
"That you are the only one who ever approaches me on personal subjects."
He knew what she was referring to, and gave a sheepish grin as his face turned pink.
"I guess I just like to help people get things out in the open."
Their gazes locked, and he could swear that she looked a tad bit more peaceful.
"Drop to Impulse" he ordered Mayweather
He turned to T'Pol, awaiting her report. He noticed that she looked.different. Something about her had changed; something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"There is no debris, just the beacon." She told him softly.
It was retrieved by the transporter, and Trip went with T'Pol to figure out what had made the thing deploy. It was a silent ride down the Turbolift, and as her index finger reached out to press a key he noticed a dark green ribbon tied around her wrist. That's unusual, she never wears anything other than that catsuit, he thought briefly.
In a small, quiet part of engineering, they sat down to work. Trip got out his tools and began to tinker with the small, round orb. T'Pol, in the meantime, ran her scanner over it and reviewed her findings silently. After a good twenty minutes of silence, Trip sat back with a sigh.
"Well, I can't find out how ta open this damned thing. You havin' any luck with your scans?"
She didn't even bother to look up.
"It was deployed two days ago in the exact spot we found it. It contains information about the crew and their mission, but it is impossible to discover what happened."
Her voice was soft, and looking at her slightly bent figure, Trip guessed he knew what was wrong.
"You know it's not your fault."
She looked up, startled.
"I mean, there was no way we could have known; nothing we could do."
"I know."
Silence returned as Trip wondered whether or not he had comforted her. Finally, she spoke.
"I should report to the captain."
He nodded and followed her up to the bridge.
"What kind of ship was it?" Archer asked. T'Pol had just come upon him in his ready room, overlooking the star charts of the area.
"A medical supply ship." She answered passively
Archer almost itched to ask what was bothering her, but stopped himself just in time. She was Vulcan, and even if she was unhappy, she would rather eat meat than talk about her own emotions.
"How many were on board?" Again a shadow passed over her face before she pushed it away.
"Twenty-six."
He sighed. He had just conversed with Admiral Forrest, who had no doubt related the entire thing to Ambassador Soval by now. He was pretty sure that the Vulcans would squash his request to investigate further. Noticing that she was still standing, he changed subjects.
"Have you eaten yet?"
"Not since this morning."
"Well, go eat something. You look like you need it. You can take the rest of the night off."
"I would prefer to continue working until my shift is over."
Again he failed to understand that look in her face. Defeated, he nodded. As she turned to go, he added,
"T'Pol, I'm sorry."
For a moment she looked back at him, almost as if she wanted to tell him something. The moment passed, and she responded,
"So am I."
5 Hours later, Archer looked in on his crew. It was 2200 hours, and the senior officers were all off duty, their consoles manned by silent ensigns. Only T'Pol was still at her consol.
"SubCommander, your shift ended two hours ago."
She gazed up at him, eyes dull and tired.
"I have been reviewing scans of this sector."
"What was so interesting that it took you five hours?"
"This area holds a number of ancient nebulas. They would be worth studying."
Archer knew a plea for an away mission when he heard one.
"Alright, you and Commander Tucker can take a shuttlepod first thing in the morning, but for now SubCommander, you better get to your quarters."
She obeyed and silently left her consol. In her quarters, she changed into her meditation robes and lit her candles. Not surprisingly, mediation escaped her again. Her stomach rumbled, and her head ached, but it was still astonishing when she felt wetness at the corner of her eyes. But she brushed them away with an agitated hand, blew out the candles, and got into bed. I will not let this beat me. She thought fiercely, appalled that she would resort to crying; the response actions of an toddler. Then she fell into an exhausted sleep.
The following morning, Hoshi, Malcolm, Trip and Travis were all in the situation room, awaiting the arrival of their captain and his second-in- command.
"Jeez, after that movie last night, I didn't sleep a wink." Hoshi commented with a yawn
"Don't like scary clowns, eh Hosh?" Travis joked. She gave him a playful shove.
"Not when your earliest memories of childhood trauma involve them. Trust me, you'd be scared too."
T'Pol entered, holding a mug of green tea. Trip noted that while the bags were gone from her eyes, she still didn't look too great. He also noticed that she still wore that ribbon around her wrist. Archer entered seconds later.
"What do we do today, sir?" Hoshi asked through a yawn.
Archer smiled at the young ensign. In just four months, she had come a long way.
"I've decided that T'Pol and Trip are going to take a shuttlepod out and for a while?"
"Shuttlepod?" Trip reiterated, glancing from the captain to the Vulcan.
"What for?"
"T'Pol believes the nebulas are worth exploring. You'll only be out for a few hours."
Trip shrugged. Archer dismissed them, and the two next in command made their way to the shuttlepod bay.
Things went rather slowly that morning. Absolutlely nothing happened on Enterprise. The same could be said about shuttlepod 2. After 3 hours of minimal conversation and more nebulas than he would ever want to see, the chief engineer thought he would scream in frustration. He had absolutlely nothing to do but look out through the viewport, and then back to T'Pol, who looked as passive as ever.
The truth of the matter, however, was very different. T'Pol appeared calm, but she was slowly losing the battle against her rising emotions. And she knew it too. She knew it was only a matter of time before her mental restraints broke. She could only prolong the inevitable, but not for too much longer. To ease the struggle, she threw herself into her work. Any idleness would allow thoughts of Emris flood her brain, and that would certainly lead to disgrace, particularly since she was with the Commander. He was the one who often managed agitated her, and to minimize any possibilities of strife between them, she opted to say as little as possible. But Trip wouldn't have it.
"Whatcha thinkin' about?"
"My scans."
"Anythin' interesting'?"
"Several things. Would you like to see them?"
He laughed, not sure if she was serious or sarcastic.
"T'Pol cut the act."
She looked up at him, a hint of her usual condescension in her face.
"I do not know what you mean, Commander."
He sighed. She was going to be difficult. But then again, Vulcans were always difficult, he thought to himself wryly.
"Look, I know you're tryin' ta hid it and all, but to be honest with ya, its not workin'."
"I am not hiding anything." She answered, but her voice sounded a bit strange. Trip pressed his point, not sure where this was going.
"Somethin' been botherin' ya since we picked up scans of that beacon. I know you like your privacy and all, but we can tell."
If he hadn't spent the last 4 months with her, he would have sworn that she looked alarmed. But T'Pol didn't become alarmed, he reassured himself.
"We?"
"The senior officers. The capn' asked me if I knew what was goin' on. I have to admit, I'm in the dark as much as the rest of 'em."
T'Pol averted her gaze, and he waited for her to respond. Seconds like hours passed before she muttered something incomprehensible.
"What was that?"
"I said I am in mourning."
"Well, 'course you are. I would be too. But T'Pol, we've been through this, and I know its hard, but you've gotta let it go."
"It is more difficult than you imagine."
Again he waited, feeling that she was about to spill about the whole thing.
"I.knew someone on board the Kev'Lir. He and I were.close, to say the least. I am disturbed by his death."
There, that was it. She once again became tight lipped, and lifted defiant, challenging eyes to his face, daring him to say something or make a pun about her inability to control and conceal her emotions. Instead, the SubCommander was shocked to see sympathy and empathy written plainly across his features.
"Jesus Christ T'Pol, I had no idea. I'm real sorry."
She relaxed slightly.
"Thank you."
"Is there anythin'.erm.that I can do for ya?"
"No, but I would appreciate it if you wouldn't mention in to anyone. I'm sure you understand it is a very private matter."
He nodded vigorously, and returned to staring out into the latest nebula, which had suddenly become fascinating.
"It is interesting, however," she mused.
"That you are the only one who ever approaches me on personal subjects."
He knew what she was referring to, and gave a sheepish grin as his face turned pink.
"I guess I just like to help people get things out in the open."
Their gazes locked, and he could swear that she looked a tad bit more peaceful.