NX-03 Challenger
Sirius III (Alpha Canus Majoris)
T'Pol stood in the captain's ready room in a bit of a dichotomy. The overall problem was that she'd just ordered and executed ground strikes against twenty Romulan soldiers, and she had to deal with that.
Logically, the soldiers represented a threat to allied entities. That and Trip himself, her bondmate. The logic then was sound, if difficult to embrace. Her emotions had always been close to the surface.
That and her brief turn at Trellium addiction had done her no favors in that regard.
On the other hand, while she was generally unable to achieve a state truly lacking in emotion, she was able to achieve an emotional state that was even keeled and allowed for rational decision making.
And so she needed only a brief moment off the bridge to reorient herself.
Then she saw the small, pocket-sized envelope on the desk nearby.
It was clearly addressed to "T'Pol".
She regarded the letter almost with a level of dread, as if it might sprout legs and attack. It was obviously written by Trip and would constitute an emotional communication. She'd received other such letters in the past and they always provoked an emotional response within her.
The logical thing to do would be to ignore the letter and retreat to the bridge. On the other hand, this was precisely why she'd bonded to Trip in the first place. She'd come to crave his emotionality and it provided an outlet for her own.
T'Pol picked up the unsealed envelope and removed the letter within. Then she read:
"My dearest T'Pol;
"I know, with our bond, that you require no profession of love. But I know, also, that you value the emotional reactions such professions bring. I know further that my emotionality first attracted you to me, so I say and do these things not to challenge our bone but to strengthen it
You have become life to me. My heart, a newborn living thing that binds us together. Know that, however far apart, I am always with you.
I think Shakespeare, in sonnet forty-seven, more aptly described my love for you than I ever could.
Thy self away, art present still with me;
For thou not farther than my thoughts canst move,
And I am still with them, and they with thee;
Or, if they sleep, thy picture in my sight
Awakes my heart, to heart's and eyes' delight.
Always my love,
Trip"
T'Pol held the letter to her breast, savoring the feelings of love it had aroused. Though he was many thousands of kilometers away, T'Pol felt as if she could reach out and touch him.
The intercom chimed.
"Commander T'Pol, you're needed on the bridge."
T'Pol replaced the letter into the envelope and tucked it inside her breast pocket. She didn't bother answering the comm but strode directly onto the bridge.
"Report." She ordered.
"We've got an incoming vessel," Feral reported. "ETA, ten minutes."
T'Pol strode over to the unoccupied science station and touched the controls for a moment, then lowered her eyes to the scanner.
The vessel was a perfect match for the gravimetric silhouette of a Romulan Warbird.
T'Pol's blood, insofar as a Vulcan's blood could, ran cold. The Warbird was a Romulan cruiser and represented a serious threat to the ship. The logical course of action would be to leave the system before it arrived.
But that presented a problem.
"Comm," T'Pol asked. "Are we still out of contact with the away team?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Jacobs said. "They've all entered the cave."
T'Pol didn't bother calling the picture to the viewscreen, Jacobs knew what see was doing.
"Call the enemy vessel to the forward viewscreen," She ordered, instead.
The ship appeared onscreen, the massive, winged eagle it was built to represent filling the view.
"Sound action stations." T'Pol said.
Action stations. Report to duty stations. This is not a drill.
"Hull and weapons?" T'Pol asked.
"100%." Feral responded. "We're ready, Commander."
Trip and his team followed the survivors to the far back of the cave. What awaited them there was stunning to say the least.
Three sarcophagi took up most of the space. Each opened recently, surely by the science team, revealing only dust and small bits of bone. On the covers were images of what were probably the occupants of the sarcophagi, though they were now faded beyond reckoning.
On each lay writing which, though Trip could not read it, he had at least been bonded to a Vulcan long enough to recognize as Vulcan script.
Completing the mystery was the ragged flag hanging from the wall behind the sarcophagi. It bore the unmistakable image of the Romulan eagle.
Bert Collins, the lead scientist, spoke before Trip could ask the dozen or so questions that popped into his mind.
"We couldn't use DNA to identify the bone fragments," He said. "So, we had to use less reliable methods. Nonetheless, we're somewhat confident they're Vulcans. We estimate they were put to rest here approximately four thousand years ago or less. The Romulan flag dates to roughly the same time.
"I've heard of individual Vulcans helping the cause of the Romulans, but if we're correct with our identification then we're looking at a Romulan/Vulcan relationship that spans generations."
"You said you were only somewhat confident." Trip said.
"Yes, and that's the best estimate I can give. Hardly compelling from a scientific view, but that represents the best we're able to do."
"Have you gathered and scanned everything you need to here?"
"Yes, we have detailed scans and some bone pieces. We're otherwise ready to depart, if that's what you're asking."
"Hold on." A second scientist, Ray Gibson, spoke. "What about my animals? Never mind ethical considerations, they represent months of hard work. I can't just abandon them."
"Let me check with the ship," Trip said. "If there's no compelling reason to leave in a hurry, we'll walk back and release your animals. The trackway there is the best possible landing spot for a shuttle anyway.""
"Agreed then." Gibson said.
"Good. Let's move out."
It took a few minutes for the group to move to and through the cave entrance. There Trip drew his communicator to contact the Challenger. In doing so, his eyes were drawn skyward, and so he saw unmistakable dull flashes of space combat occurring over their heads.
"Change of plans." He said. "We're beaming aboard."
"What?" Gibson asked. "No way! Haven't you heard of the ship of Theseus paradox? I'm not trusting my bits and pieces to a machine. I'm going to attend to my animals, and you can't stop me. Send a shuttle down to pick me up if you survive the fight."
"Sir," Trip said. "I can't guarantee your safety if you remain planet side."
"You can't guarantee my safety on board your ship right now either."
Trip found he had no substantive argument to that, so he conceded.
"Fine," He said. "However, many of you want to stay, say so now."
"I'll stay to help Gibson, Captain." Collins said. "I don't really trust transporters either."
"Okay, you two go on ahead. The rest of you gather round."
Trip activated the communicator in his hand.
"Captain Tucker to the Challenger."
After a moment…
"Challenger, go ahead Captain."
"Seven to beam up as soon as you're able."
"Copy that, Captain."
Jacobs must have wasted no time relaying instructions to the transporter room because Trip felt the tingle of transport, followed a blinding blue light that rose and fell all around him.
Finding himself back on the Challenger, he wasted no time issuing orders.
"Chang, You're with me. Ross report to your duty station. MACO defend engineering."