PART FOUR



"You seem troubled this evening," said T'Pol as she pressed her fingertips into Tucker's shoulders. "Is there something you'd like to discuss?"

Tucker opened his eyes then shook his head.

"Are your hands bothering you?"

Again, the commander shook his head. T'Pol glanced down at the bandages that were still wrapped protectively around Tucker's burned hands. She noticed his fingers flexing where they lay in his lap then she looked up again at him with lifted brows.

Tucker sighed. "Alright," he relented quietly. "One of my crew said something today, mentioned someone, actually."

"Someone?"

"Yeah. Sim."

T'Pol inhaled quickly. "Sim?" she asked.

The commander nodded then shifted on his knees. "Who was he?"

"This crewman didn't tell you?"

Tucker shook his head. "But he looked kind of uncomfortable, like he'd let something slip."

T'Pol slid her hands from Tucker's shoulders then let them settle in her lap. She turned her eyes to the candle that burned to her right.

"T'Pol?" prompted Tucker.

"Sim was your clone, Commander," replied the sub-commander. She looked back at the man who sat knee to knee with her. "You were fatally injured in an accident. Dr. Phlox created Sim in order to save you."

Tucker looked suddenly wary. "Am I Sim then?"

"No," replied T'Pol. "But you carry a part of him with you."

"I don't understand."

"Dr. Phlox created Sim then harvested his brain tissue to save your life."

Tucker stood. "He did what?" he asked incredulously as he looked down at her. He swallowed. "What---what happened to him, T'Pol? Where is he now?"

T'Pol hesitated, a feeling of trepidation rising in her stomach. "He is dead, Commander."

Tucker inhaled sharply then took a step backwards. "Dead," he whispered. "Because of me?"

The Vulcan stood. "No, not because of you, but because of this mission."

"So Phlox chose my life over Sim's?"

"Captain Archer felt that---," T'Pol began.

"The cap'n agreed to this?" asked Tucker. He took another step back and shook his head. "I never wanted anyone to die for me, T'Pol."

"I'm aware of that, Commander. Please let me explain---."

"What's there to explain? Someone died so that I could live, plain and simple. Isn't that right? And I can't even remember who he was." Tucker ran a hand back through his hair. "I can't remember anything because I was too weak to resist those bastards!" His bandaged hands balled into fists at his sides. "If I'd only been stronger, maybe---."

"You are not weak, Commander."

"But I am, T'Pol," replied Tucker. He stopped suddenly then he squeezed his eyes shut. He brought his fingers up to massage his temples.

T'Pol stepped toward him and took his arms. "Commander?"

Tucker pulled away from her. "I can't even remember who he was," he repeated. "Damn it," he cursed and he bit his lip.

"Take deep breaths," urged T'Pol as she watched his face.

Tucker gasped then he doubled over and dropped to his knees.

T'Pol knelt beside him then quickly stood and moved to her comm. panel. "T'Pol to Dr. Phlox."

"Yes, go ahead."

"I have a medical emergency in my quarters, Doctor. It's Commander Tucker."

"I'm on my way."

T'Pol turned back to her companion who still was in obvious pain. She moved to his side then dropped to her knees. Gently, she coaxed him to lie down and then cushioned his head in her lap.

"I can't even remember him, T'Pol," Tucker managed. "Why was I so weak?"

Unsure of what to do to comfort the stricken commander, T'Pol simply brushed her hand lightly over his hair and waited for the doctor to arrive.



Trip blinked then he opened his eyes to see the concerned face of Dr. Phlox looking down at him. He shifted then realized his head was being cradled in someone's lap.

T'Pol.

Trip pushed himself up to a sitting position then wavered slightly.

"How are you feeling, Commander?" asked Phlox.

"The pain's gone."

"Ah, good," replied the doctor. "Have you ever had an attack this severe before?"

Trip shook his head. "No," he replied then he stood. "I'm fine now, Doc."

"Thank you for getting here so quickly, Doctor," T'Pol said as she rose to her feet.

"If I may ask, what triggered this attack?"

"I was just trying to remember someone," replied Trip briskly.

T'Pol looked up at him. "And he was wondering if he could have resisted the torture," she added.

"Ah," replied Phlox. "As I've told you before, there was nothing you could have done, Commander. I've read all of Dr. Kavoc's reports. After the Andorians retrieved you, Kavoc discovered your system was flooded with a variety of chemicals, some psychotropic in nature, others unidentifiable. With the use of these drugs in conjunction with the physical abuse, you simply did not stand a chance against them."

"Maybe," Trip said dejectedly. He reached for his shirt which hung over T'Pol's chair and pulled it on. "I'm kinda tired, Sub-commander. Mind if we call it a night?"

"We've only completed one posture," replied T'Pol. "You may have trouble sleeping, Commander. I recommend at least---."

Trip put his hand up to stop her. "Thanks, T'Pol, really. I just need to be by myself for a while."

T'Pol held his eyes for a long moment, an odd mixture of emotions swirling in their darkness, then relented with a nod of her head.

Trip smiled weakly then left the Vulcan with a very confused looking Denobulan.



Malcolm Reed yawned unceremoniously as he entered the gym then he stopped. "Commander?"

Trip looked over at him from the treadmill on which he was running. "Evening, Lieutenant," he replied breathlessly.

The armory officer moved to the row of hand weights that lined one side of the gym. "You're up awfully late, sir."

"Wasn't tired," replied the engineer. He took one corner of the towel that rested around his neck and wiped his forehead.

Malcolm picked up two weights, one in each hand, and began light bicep curls. As he warmed up his muscles, he watched the commander in his peripheral vision. His friend appeared to be running a marathon, and a fast one at that, Malcolm decided.

Finally, after several moments at a torrid pace, Trip hit the controls and slowed slightly to a nice jog. He wiped his face again with his towel.

"Are you alright?" asked Malcolm.

Trip nodded. "Fine," he replied curtly.

Malcolm put down his weights and moved to the front of the treadmill. "If you don't mind my saying, Commander, you don't seem fine."

The engineer looked up. "I do mind, Lieutenant."

Malcolm nodded apologetically and took a step backwards. "All right, sir," he said as he turned.

"Hey, wait. I'm sorry, Malcolm," sighed Trip. He hit the button and the treadmill stopped. Malcolm watched as he leaned heavily on the display panel then wiped his face again.

The lieutenant stepped forward. "Maybe I can help," he offered gently.

Trip smiled weakly and shook his head. "I doubt anyone can," he replied.

"Commander?"

Trip sighed again. "What do you know about Sim, Malcolm?"

The armory officer swallowed. "Sim? What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about him."

Malcolm shrugged. "I really didn't spend too much time with him. I know he saved your life, though."

"Was it by choice?" Trip asked, his eyes piercing Malcolm's.

"That's how I understood it, Commander. What's this all about?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?" asked Malcolm.

Trip moved to a bench and sat down. Malcolm hesitated then followed him, sitting down beside him. He waited silently, watching as the commander stared at his bandaged hands.

"The captain didn't make him do it, did he?" Trip asked finally, his voice so quiet Malcolm had to strain to hear him.

Malcolm paused. He'd often wondered that himself over the past few weeks, but had never had the courage to ask. Archer had surprised him with some of his actions in the Expanse and Malcolm had finally decided it was best if he didn't know exactly what had happened with Sim.

"Malcolm?"

The lieutenant sighed. "You know him better than I do, Commander," he replied lamely.

"No, I don't," said Trip. "I've only known him for a few weeks, Malcolm. I don't remember him or our friendship." He stood and began to pace, his frustration palpable. "I need to know what happened."

Malcolm stood. "Why?

"Why?" repeated Trip, his voice filled with surprise. "Because a life was created to save mine, Malcolm. A life that was just as valuable as mine. If I was at death's door, why did Phlox even perform an operation? Why didn't he just let me die?"

The lieutenant reached out and took Trip's arm, staying him. "You don't know the whole story, Trip," he replied gently. "Sim's lifespan was only 15 days."

"That still doesn't mean those 15 days weren't important, Malcolm. And did Phlox even try to see if he could live longer or was he just spare parts to him?"

"That isn't fair to Phlox, Trip."

"Maybe not, but you didn't answer my question."

"From what I gathered, there was only a minute chance he could live a longer life."

"But there was a chance?"

Malcolm nodded. "I don't know all the facts, though."

"Probably because the captain and the good doctor didn't want you to know."

"They're not monsters, Trip."

The commander looked at his feet and sighed. "I'm sorry," he replied. "Did Sim at least get to experience his life, or was he locked away in sickbay?"

"I'd say he experienced his life. In fact, he saved the ship just like you would've done."

Trip's head snapped up and he locked eyes with Malcolm's. "So he had my knowledge?"

Malcolm hesitated and looked away.

"Did he have my knowledge, Lieutenant?" pressed Trip.

The armory officer nodded. "Yes."

Trip turned on his heel and laughed without mirth. "Oh, this is beautiful," he spat, then he turned back to Malcolm, his face suddenly pleading. "Why did Phlox and the captain do it, Malcolm? I'm not worth what Sim sacrificed."

"Trip, there's so much you don't remember," Malcolm began gently.

The engineer squeezed his eyes shut and brought his fingers up to his temples. "I know that," he replied. "Believe me, I know that." Then he gasped.

"I'll get the doctor." Malcolm turned but stopped when a hand grabbed his arm.

Trip shook his head. "I'm fine. Just give me a minute."

Malcolm took his friend's elbow and led him back to the bench where they both sat down. After a moment, Trip dropped his hands back into his lap and his shoulders sagged. He shook his head, but remained silent.

"What would you do," Malcolm began gently. "If your brother was fighting for his life and his doctor told you the only chance to save him was to create a clone?"

Trip turned his head and met Malcolm's eyes.

"Then when this clone was created, it turned out he had all your brother's memories and mannerisms," the lieutenant continued. "Would you accept the clone because he was a healthy version of your brother, or would you ask the doctor to perform the operation?"

"He's my brother, Malcolm," replied Trip. "There could never be a replacement for him. But that isn't the same thing."

Malcolm held Trip's eyes. "Isn't it?" he asked quietly.



Jon leaned forward, his hands bracing his weight against the situation room display table. "There's a monitoring station on this planetoid," he said pointing to a circle on the screen in front of him. "If we set off the alarms, we've lost our element of surprise and they'll know we're close to Azati Prime."

T'Pol nodded. "Sensors show it is manned by a contingent of six Reptilians. I've been monitoring their communications and thus far, they have made no attempts to send out any messages."

"So we're outside their detection range," said Reed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"That's what it looks like," replied Jon. "T'Pol has discovered that when the planetoid rotates and the station is shadowed, their sensors are scrambled. The window is only a few minutes so there's not enough time to get a shuttle in."

"Is there enough time to get Enterprise in?" asked Trip.

Jon looked up at his friend.

"Could we get the ship in close enough to transport a team down then still have time to get out of range before the station rotates out of the dark?"

"I believe so," replied T'Pol. "The timing would have to be impeccable."

Trip smiled then looked at the helmsman who stood beside him. "Travis can do impeccable, can't you, Travis?"

"Yes, sir," replied the ensign.

"That still doesn't solve our little problem with the monitoring sensors," interjected Reed. "We can take out the Reptilians, but we still can't get past those sensors without triggering the alarm."

"Ah, but I think we can," replied Trip.

Jon cocked his head and squinted at the commander. "Trip?"

"We can make the sensors think they're seeing something that isn't really there. Or in this case, make them think they're seeing nothing when something IS really there."

"Simple, but ingenious," stated T'Pol evenly. "And you're certain you can do this?"

Trip shrugged. "I'd need to look at the scans you've taken, but yeah, I'm pretty sure I can."

"All right then," said Jon. "Trip and I will transport with a team of MACOs as soon as Trip's ready."

Reed cleared his throat. "I think I should accompany the commander, Captain. We shouldn't risk losing both of you."

"I need you at your post, Lieutenant. If something goes wrong, I need to know you're ready at weapons. Understood?"

Reed pursed his lips. "Aye, sir," he replied reluctantly.

"I can lead this mission, Cap'n."

Jon looked over at Trip. "You're going to have your hands full, Trip. Now how much time do you need to get ready?"

"If T'Pol's willing to help," the engineer replied with a quick glance at the Vulcan at his side. "Maybe an hour?"

The captain nodded. "Dismissed." He watched as his officers left the situation room.

T'Pol turned to leave then stopped. "There is no logical reason why you should be on this mission, Captain. As Science Officer, I would be able to offer more support to Commander Tucker," she said.

"My reason is logical to me, T'Pol."

"Do you not trust that I would look out for his safety?"

Jon looked at his first officer in surprise.

"It is a pattern I have observed, Captain. You are very protective of Commander Tucker."

"I'm protective of my entire crew, Sub-commander. You included," Jon replied firmly.

T'Pol nodded. "I just want you to be aware that I would not allow any harm to come to him---if I were to lead this mission."

Jon couldn't help but smile. "I know that, T'Pol." Then he sighed. "We're going in there with our phase pistols set to kill, you know." He looked down at the display of the tiny planetoid. "I remember the first time Trip ever had to kill anyone. I know what it did to him, how he reacted. Since he's the best choice for this mission, I think I'm the best choice to accompany him." He glanced up and met T'Pol's eyes. "I know I'm taking a risk, T'Pol. But right now, this is what I need to do not as his captain, but as his friend. Do you understand that?"

The Vulcan tipped her head to the side. "Understood," she replied softly then she turned and entered the command center to join Trip.

Jon looked back down at the planetoid. In all their time spent at Starfleet, neither man had ever discussed the possibility of taking another life. Their dreams had been of exploration, of meeting alien species, of forging new friendships. Killing had never been a part of those talks.

The captain sighed sadly. They had both been too naïve thinking that there weren't species like the Xindi in the universe. He straightened his uniform then headed off the bridge to brief Major Hayes on their plans.



CONTINUED