A.N
Just a couple of things to say really.
John, my dear, why did you read fifteen chapters, no less than 109037 words, just to say that? If I were reading a story that I didn't like as much as you seemed not to like this one, then I'd have given up post-chapter one and went on to something else. What a poor, sad waste of time. So moving on.
If you haven't figured out by now that T'Pol is more of the central character in this than anyone else, well this chapter should just about tip the scales completely.
(Let me know, also, if this story's starting to wear thin slightly. Just in case I'm dragging it on too much.)
. . . . . . .
Trip, in the seven years he had served upon Enterprise, had often been put in charge as Captain. Although he had his flaws when playing the position, lacking the 'edge' that Archer had and the calm, emotionless front T'Pol boasted, he was made of as fine a captaining material as either of them and very much enjoyed the promotion when he had it. He often wondered to himself when he sat in the chair if he really could become a Captain of his own NX one day...
Often the crew would jokingly call him 'Captain Trip' if circumstances weren't unfortunate that he had become head of the ship and he quite enjoyed the ring of it.
Today was not one of those days where he was 'Captain Trip'. Today he was Sir and everyone else that he called was either 'Lieutenant', 'Ensign' or 'Crewmember'.
Before him on the screen at the front of the bridge space was empty and silent, tossing him a sharp cold shoulder, and before Sulak his console read the same. It had been like this for the entire half hour Archer had now been gone.
"Sulak," he did not know any of the Vulcans' by their own High Command ranks and so they had the honour of going by their names, "try scannin' for any human bio signs within as far a radius as you can."
The Vulcan looked up, almost bleary eyed, and faced the man sat edgily in the Chair.
"It will be a long search without any specific co-ordinates."
Trip sighed. "Well ah can't give 'y any ah'm afraid. Just start lookin' until we have a better idea of what to do."
Sulak obeyed without another word. He never thought he'd wish it, but he would rather Captain Archer was sitting in that chair now.
Trip looked briefly back at Malcolm. His treasured best friend looked wracked with worry, and not the kind that almost always stained his somewhat rouged features. This worry was piercing his conscience and thundering away at his flighty heart. Trip pained with him.
Before him he then watched Hoshi and Travis. They had been doing it the whole past half-hour, stealing the occasional glance at each other when they judged that the other wasn't looking. Amidst the circumstances it was... sweet, as with it there was an obvious mild infatuation in each of their shy gazes.
Sulak was nothing great to watch so Trip gave him a miss. Until something dawned on him at that moment, minutes after the command had been given.
He had been told by Malcolm in the Captain's ready room, when he was being briefed on why Archer had left them so fast, who Sulak was.
"He's T'Pol's older brother, or at least one of two."
Trip had given an involuntary smirk. "Really?"
Malcolm nodded with his usual sincerity. "I wouldn't say anything though Sir, I believe he is rather worried about her, even if he wont admit it."
So Trip hadn't, sticking by the advice of his First Officer. The fact did creep back up on him though and so he slumped slightly in the chair as his face paled.
Lizzie. Oh how he had been so worried after hearing about the tragedy that had hit Florida, when at first had held out hope that maybe, just maybe, she was still alive. How he had been made to remember so many childhood memories, even also some more recent adulthood ones. Of when they had gone to Australia together for than one spectacular month, of all the building openings that had come from her designs he had attended with her. All the birthday parties with her and Christmases spent with their older brother as well, the three of them inseparable but Trip and Lizzie always with that little extra glue between them.
And how it still seared him when he thought of her even today, even at this moment. How he sometimes had to clamp down on his fist with his teeth just to stop the urge to punch the nearest wall in, or punch Malcolm because he still had a sister and just did not appreciate her, as she did not him.
So he turned around in the chair and faced the tight-featured Vulcan.
"Y' must be worried 'bout her."
Everyone looked up and Sulak looked mildly surprised at being addressed in casual conversation when he had just been given such a strenuous order to execute.
"Excuse me?"
Trip smiled weakly, trying his best to look sympathetic towards a being who most likely would not understand it. T'Pol had given him just enough practice of this though in their earlier years together for him to almost get the expression's intended meaning across.
"Ah had a sister once, a younger one, just like T'Pol is to you. And ah might have wanted to strangle her dead sometimes," mild alarm arose in the Vulcan's gaze, "but ah loved her so much that ah'd have murdered ma own best friend for her."
Malcolm shifted in his chair slightly.
"Unfortunately she was killed in the Xindi attack. Ah'd have traded ma career aboard Enterprise to have made sure that didn't happen, but it did. Ah went out though, into the Expanse, an' made sure ah did everythin' ah could to make sure she didn't die in vain. Ah almost died a couple times maself in the process, but ah don't regret a think ah ever did for her name."
Sulak tried his best not to relate to what the human was telling him, but he failed miserably trying not to look interested and even, to a fleeting degree, pained.
"Y' might resent yer own baby sister for what she's done, hangin' 'bout with the likes of us an' all that, tellin' the High Command to stuff it, but you'll never resent her. An' if ah were you ah'd be worried if it was anyone but Jon goin' out there after her, but lucky for y' both it is."
There was silence and Trip smiled.
"Sir."
Trip nodded, encouraging the Vulcan to go on.
"I've detected a ship."
He jumped from the chair and was behind the Science Officer in two tremendous leaps.
"Where?"
Sulak typed furiously at his console.
"They have just put down their clocking device and the ship is dropping down to Impulse, shall we do the same?"
Hoshi turned before he could answer.
"Sir we're being hailed."
Trip frowned. "Stall it for a second. Travis drop to Impulse with them."
Both obeyed with a silent nod.
"Where is it?"
Sulak slowly found his eyes distracted from the console as he began to look up and out, ignoring the commanding officer. His eyes shone with a strange and shamefully frightened horror.
"Sir, it's in front of us."
Trip reeled when he looked up with him.
"Jesus..."
Not quite a divine sight, but Trip looked upon it with as much awe and fear as any man would if faced by God himself.
The grey, metallic monstrosity before them was easily twice as big as Enterprise and appeared twice, if not three times as powerful. Shaped like an arrowhead with a two forked tail it could easily have held fifteen, sixteen decks and a good five hundred-strong crew with plenty room to spare for tens of torpedoes, lasers and a fair few spacious brig decks. Trip was impressed, and not pleased.
"Hoshi let the hail through."
Trip's ears cringed as the hysterical bombardment of a flustered Andorian hit them, his figure filling the screen in place of the ship as he paced back and forth furiously, insanely.
"Where are they?!"
Trip blinked, then attacked with a frown cemented into his own infuriated expression.
"What d' mean, 'where are they'?"
Yulae laughed, but did not smile.
"You humans! How primitive do you think we are? Your Captain, and the Vulcan, where are they?!"
Trip wanted to punch something, naturally, but the closest thing he had as he walked to the front of the bridge was Hoshi, and he liked her too much to do so. His fists did clench though, and she did shift uncomfortable at her station as she watched his entire body tremble.
"Aboard with you last time ah checked. An' we wouldn't mind 'em back either, thank you."
Behind him Sulak seemed to grow almost excited.
"Sir, I've picked up a Vulcan bio sign. It's very weak, but close enough."
Trip turned to him and nodded, ignoring the Andorian as he decided to parade the triumph directly in front of him.
"Well, you heard what Cap'in Archer's orders were when we found her, beam 'er up."
"I'll warn you now human, you have the wrong V--"
"Now, Malcolm!"
The Lieutenant was gone, bolting off to the transporter room without ever daring to query why the new Science Officer never detected any human bio signs, or what it sounded like Yulae was about to say.
The Andorian rebel decided not to correct the Commander, but neither did he guess what Malcolm had dashed off to do. He looked not entirely pleased.
"That Vulcan is mines, and the Captain belongs in all right of their laws to the Klingons now. So you might as well give them up, wherever you've put them, because in the end I'll have them both dead whether you like--"
"We don't have them! But accordin' to our scans here, you at least have T'Pol. An' she is comin' back with us whether your sick-ass mind likes it or not! Hoshi cut him off."
She did so in a flash and before them the warrior ship loomed placidly in the silent echo of space once again.
"What the hell was that all about?"
Travis and Hoshi looked on in terrified silence, both wondering now what they would have been doing right now if they had ended up on the Horizon instead, as planned and booked and then cancelled when this catastrophe arose.
Sulak poured over his console enough that Trip could not hook his flaring blue gaze into the Vulcan's concentrating brown one.
"Sir, there are no human bio signs aboard that ship. The shuttle is aboard, but as far as these readings can detect, your Captain is not."
"But T'Pol is?"
"I'm assume the one Vulcan bio signs I am picking up is hers, yes."
Trip sighed. "Ah thought Vulcans didn't 'assume'."
"I am merely pointing out to you the most logical conclusion I can here Sir, as we have little else to go on at the moment."
Trip moved to the door of the bridge, it obvious that he was about to follow Malcolm out.
"Yeah? Like brother like sister ah say."
. . . . . . .
His fingers rapped nervously along the dull silver panel upon which Malcolm worked rather furiously with the stubborn passenger he was trying desperately to transport onto the platform before them, and not out into the middle of space, or into an empty airlock. She wasn't for being pulled apart molecule by molecule and then reconfigured within the space of five seconds easily though.
Trip curled his fingers into a fist and threw it at his side. Malcolm tried his best to ignore him as he began to pace.
"It's been over a minute now Malcolm, what the hell's goin' on?"
The Lieutenant put the tip of his tongue, which had been sitting clenched in between his tight lips, back in his mouth as he continued to move the two leavers up and down patiently.
"I'm finding it difficult to get a proper hold on her straight away, that's all. So unless you want her back limb for limb then I'd suggest you prey that me taking my time will assures we get a whole body back on board with us in one piece."
Trip came back to Malcolm's side, pressing his palms into the side of the panel as the frustrated Lieutenant continued to work.
"C'mon T'Pol, play along with us for once, would ya?"
Malcolm pulled down on the left panel as Trip muttered away, and then suddenly thought he felt a victorious tug twinge his entire arm. A slow, reluctant smile crept along his pale lips and not a few seconds later a majestic shower of silvery blue dust hovered before them, beginning to rapidly take up the form of a curled, shivering female body. As she finished commuting between ships and took on full form, they saw it was indeed a Vulcan, but any Vulcan except T'Pol .
Malcolm dashed to the nearest comm.
"Reed to Sickbay, we have a medical emergency down here. Assistance required immediately."
Trip stood before the panel stumped beyond belief and looking... slightly aghast. Malcolm gazed at him quickly, unable to catch his eye to exchange words with just looks before he ran over to the Vulcan - he hesitated to call her in his mind - that they had just unwittingly transported aboard.
"Ma'am, are you alright?"
Stains of green blood began to spoil the immaculate silver finish of the transporter room floor. A set of thin pointed ears produced from a dirty tangle of blonde hair. She was undeniably Vulcan, but easily looked like she could have been part something else. Finally managing to share a look they both paled as they thought of what the 'something else' most obviously could to be. White skin, blue eyes, scrawny physique; they tried not to comprehend it, but it was an impossible task. Finally she spoke, and thus redeemed herself slightly with a flat and rather deep tone.
"Your Captain is gone, and T'Pol with him."
Gathering his decency Trip aided the strong willed Vulcan up, holding onto her torn hand and bony elbow carefully as she almost instantly picked up her balance. Malcolm hovered over at the other side of her, assuring she would not end up crumpled to the floor. They continued to look upon her now with a more curious fear, the initial rude shock stepping quietly aside as they took in the brunt of her appearance and began to accept it, for now.
"Were y' aboard the Andorian ship?"
She nodded, allowing them to show her the way to wherever their sickbay was. Her trust of humans was painfully apparent. Their trust was not.
"Where'd they go?"
She looked at Trip earnestly, and almost pitifully. "After the Klingon killed T'Pol they disappeared. Just at the junction of the corridor. I managed to see it through the window of my cell." She didn't stop as she saw the devastating drop in each man's face. "Believe me though, please, they disappeared quite literally through thin air. Gone, completely. And so there is a chance your First Officer still lives."
She stumbled slightly and Malcolm made to catch her, but she had enough determination and pride that she caught herself. She smiled slightly and they fought not to reel back together as the expression graced her mucky face.
"Thank you. I can't hope to tell you anymore, but thank you, for getting me away from him."
The doors opened and the three continued on out, one of the few crewmembers who was medically trained there to join them as they walked on now one Vulcan up one Vulcan and one Captain down. Trip forced a thin, wiry smile upon his lips, still as 'Captain Trip'.
"No problem ma'am."
Malcolm sighed. It was going to be a long rescue mission.
. . . . . . .
The air around him was nothing. There was no breeze, no temperature, no smell and no texture. No clamminess, no sound, no currents, nothing. It was the future's way of telling him he was not a part of this, and not particularly welcome either. He could still see everything, hear the shuttlecars scooting by overhead, feel the soft blades of grass which crawled cheekily up his trouser legs as he crossed the spongy knoll. But to them, to the senses of this world, he was nothing more than an intruder.
Daniels ignored them as he trudged behind the Captain.
"Well I suppose you could let the newsstand explain everything if you want. It's not like it's my job to do that or anything."
Jonathan ignored him. Watching T'Pol die had not exactly put him in the mood for any spiteful humour the time traveller had to offer, even if there was a chance she could be saved - 'a certainly', Daniels had declared to an uncertain Jonathan.
His feet grounded on tarmac and he waked across it with slightly more gratitude for its liner formation, a rare thing in San Francisco he understood, and appreciated it just a little more for that. The newsstand stood just over a deserted road before him that neatly lined the one endless row of closed and deserted shops and office buildings there. It was the skies tonight that were full, and Starfleet where traffic was accumulating nicely.
"Sir?"
It appeared Daniels was having a time keeping up with Jonathan's eager, fast-footed pace, as he nervously scanned his surrounding with strange grey-blue eyes.
"Sir, I would advice you tread a little more discreetly."
Jonathan ignored him as he mounted the pavement and came to a stop, finally, to Daniels' relief, at the LCD computer stand. He read it briefly, then turned behind him slowly.
"2264."
Daniels nodded matter-of-factly, with something of a faintly pleased smile upon his thin lips. He still glanced from side to side and up and down nervously though.
"Why Daniels, have you taken me one-hundred and six years into the future?"
The time travelled quipped a small smile upon his expression.
"Impressive math there Sir."
Jonathan growled.
"Alright, alright. But not here, I'm not explaining everything here, at least not if you insist on wearing just that."
Jonathan gave his white tee and jogging bottoms a quick glance over with his sincere hazel gaze again.
"I never insisted--"
"Come on, come on, through here. This'll do, I suppose."
Daniels took the lead now as he turned rather disapprovingly into a side alley beside a comic book shop. An impressive display of Star Wars memorabilia lived in the immaculate front window display.
Jonathan took another look at the newsstand, taking an extra five seconds to read the headline for September 6th 2264.
'U.S.S Enterprise Takes Her First Flight With Third Captain, James T. Kirk'
Jonathan raised a brow. Daniels waved him forward impatiently.
"Yeah, lucky for us everyone's headed to Starfleet to watch the Christening of that. Means we get the rest of San Francisco to ourselves, almost. If anyone is here to see you though..."
Jonathan's brow stayed high, and amused, almost mocking his companion's worry.
"What, they'll recognise me?"
"Yes," was Daniels instant and blunt reply, "You and your crew have the most well known faces in Starfleet history. You're Captain Kirk's childhood hero for Pete's sake. People will know it's you when they see you. I just hope T'Pol has as much common sense as her successor not to go wondering off into plain sight. If there was ever a more famous Vulcan than Spock, then it had to be the great-grandmother of that first ever Vulcan-Human hybrid. Of course why would T'Pol settle for any lesser a title than that?"
It sounded like Daniels was beginning to think his personal opinions allowed. Jonathan looked at him with a washed expression, and spoke with a humbled tone.
"Childhood hero?"
Daniels lunged forward and, biting the poker-hot bullet, grabbed Jonathan's writs, leading him into the alleyway with him now.
"Come on."
As soon as they melted into an overcast of dingy, black back alley shadows Jonathan took his wrist back and returned the confused scowl to his face.
"Now would you mind explaining why we're here and where the hell T'Pol is?"
Standing in front of the stalwart Captain at a good few inches shorter and a good few pounds lighter Daniels, for the perpetual worrier and pale-faced man that he was, kept his authority and importance held well in his brisk and proud stance. When assigned such important jobs as this he couldn't help but feel that in one lifetime or another he would be heading for bigger things. Jonathan might have looked at his odd, crooked smile warily, but Daniels didn't mind, and never let those aspirations die.
In the next second he had to rid the smile out of respect for knowing what he was about to say was no pleasant news, or at least sounded less appealing than the actual situation was.
"Ah, T'Pol is still... Well, she's not quite, alive... as of yet."
"You mean she's still on that ship?"
Relieved that he could make this sound at least a little better Daniels shook his head eagerly.
"No, no, heavens no. There's not a person alive in this universe except her own father who hates her enough to keep her on that ship any much longer. No, she's dead, but safe enough."
Jonathan gawped. "Dead, but 'safe enough? Daniels you are going to make sense very soon or-- "
Daniels nodded eagerly again. "Yes, yes, okay. Well for now she's... safe in storage, okay? You'll see her alive and well soon enough."
Jonathan shook his head to himself, grinding his teeth slowly together but managing to keep quite, allowing Daniels to go on.
"As to why you're here, specifically. Well..."
Jonathan could feel a twitch kicking up in the corner of his eye, triggered whenever Daniels chose to say 'Well' in that long drawn manner of his.
"You're not 'here', in this specific time and place for any real reason other than it's probably just a little ironic joke They're playing right now. But we don't ask and They don't demote us. Here is safe, that's all you really need to know about that."
"Daniels. A crux to the point any time soon would be greatly appreciated."
"Right, right. So now for the 'why'. This one may take a while."
Jonathan looked back at the sheen of grey steel behind him. Pressing his back to it he slid down towards the cold stony ground and looked back up at Daniels with a slightly more subdued gaze.
"Well I've just killed one hundred and six years with you. What's another hour or so?"
Reluctantly Daniels followed the Captain down to the ground and sat rather uncomfortably on the edge of a murky, ice-cold puddle.
"True. So, the why. Well, the why begins with a mistake made last year, a big mistake, made in 2157 that is I mean, not--"
"I get it."
Daniels nodded once. "Right. Well that mistake was the Andorian attack on the Vulcan Compound that I believe Admiral Forrest filled you in on last week."
Jonathan nodded in turn.
"Good. Well you'll know six Vulcans died in that attack then."
Jonathan fought to remember the specifics of the conversation, also remembering that he had been slightly distracted at that time. He then frowned slowly.
"The Admiral told me five died that day, I think."
"Yes, he did, her told you they lost five 'men' as we would say, or as they preferred to be called, 'defensive guards'. But they also lost a sixth more... innocent bystander, an elder."
Jonathan felt a flicker of compassion and no more.
"So?"
Daniels brought his knees up and wrapped his arms around them, warming and settling himself slightly.
"So, that Vulcan was an elder judge. He had a Session booked for six months on, half a week after Enterprise was due to come home for the last time. As he was killed though obviously he couldn't make it. Another judge had to be called in to take his place, one who you and I might say is an old friend to a casual enemy."
Jonathan found himself slowly engaging more and slightly more into Daniels words.
"Casual enemy?" he asked, leaning in a little.
"A one Vulcan father known best by the name of Taron."
Jonathan swallowed back a chock. "T'Pol's father?"
Daniels nodded and the obvious began to fall into place for the Captain.
"So I take it this hearing was T'Pol's from a few days ago then?"
Daniels beamed. "Bingo. Top of the class for you. Yep, the new judge booked to see through T'Pol's hearing and write out her sentence is none other than an old Ambassador that Taron found himself working closely with on a few cases in the past to do with other 'rebel' Vulcans."
Jonathan sighed. "So where's the major playing 'mistake' in all this? I take it it's to do with the original judge's death anyway?"
A strange shimmer of muted pride glanced over Daniel's expression.
"That is exactly where it lies. The poor elder judge shouldn't have been in the Compound the day of the attack. He should have been in Starfleet, to talk to another young Vulcan who had chosen to work with humans there. Unfortunately the young Vulcan had an accident that day involving a communicator that should never have been left lying where it was, because the young Ensign who left it where he did had been called away on an emergency that should never have happened because of another careless Crewman, and well, it goes on for a while. We're still trying to pinpoint the exact moment where the mistake was born, but for now we only know the meeting should never have been cancelled and the elder should have gone to Starfleet instead of visiting the deserted gardens to meditate. A simple crime, and a shameful one too because as far as Vulcans go in the fifties of your time, he was quite an honest and fair ma-- Vulcan. He would have given T'Pol no worse a ruling than to stay on Earth and work with Starfleet, which is what she should have gotten. The sentence she was given however - the wrong sentence - is the next major player here in this whole timeline mess that's been created. Are you following alright?"
Jonathan saw from the corner of his eye a slim grey shadow dart by, but it was nothing more than a stray cat. He nodded slowly to Daniels.
"Judge was killed when he shouldn't have been. Leads to another judge being appointed and giving T'Pol the wrong sentence. Thus leading to..."
"Leading to now, or what was now before - 2158. Leading to her boarding the Phae then being taken by Yulae then interrogated on a matter she doesn't know anything about. She can't give them what they want to hear so firstly they kill her, then you, then destroy Columbia and eventually wage a much bigger war on humans and Vulcans, with the Klingons on their side. Which is understandable to a degree because the Andorians were simply defending themselves. They believed the Federation to be some sort of super weapon, a weapon of mass destruction, aimed specifically for their people and their home. Which obviously it's not, but we don't need to go into any details right now because you know enough yourself about the Federation, thank God."
Jonathan frowned, but asked nothing. He continued to follow silently through in his head, just.
"Anyway. If we go back to this hearing and play it out as it should have been."
Jonathan nodded. "Lets."
"Yes, lets. Firstly T'Pol would have stayed on Earth with Starfleet. In staying on Earth she would have been filled in with the rest of you on what the Federation actually is, or is aiming to be. Then she would have ended up aboard Enterprise with you again. Don't ask now, you but you do get Enterprise back."
A smile graced Jonathan's sombre lips.
"From there T'Pol would still have been kidnapped, but with less of the bloody, gutsy, nasty, mean conclusion to it. She is meant to become a sort of negotiator. It is, to clique it, one of a few of her more important... destinies." Daniels frowned. "Although I hate that word. But never mind. Yes, one of the reason why she's hear in existence is because she gets to play bridge of understanding, letting the Andorians know just enough that they are eventually convinced the Federation is not a weapon, but more of a... peacekeeping Council. But with T'Pol dead because of the wrong sentence from the wrong judge, the Andorians rush into full out attack-mode because no one gives them enough information in time to... calm them, in a sort of way, before they create a storm. Do you still follow, you look bored?"
Jonathan shook his head, rubbing the glazed expression from his eyes.
"No, I follow. No T'Pol, no negotiator on time. War, death, unnecessary losses etcetera. Yes, I get it... just."
Daniels smiled weakly. "Now you're just wondering one thing; why you're not the big negotiator hero in all this, why it's T'Pol instead."
It was not something Jonathan was jealous of, it was a big... destiny to carry across your back, but yes, Daniels was crudely right in his observation; he was wondering now, as the information sunk in slowly, why it was she and not him who got to burden this responsibility.
"Why are you telling me all this and not T'Pol?"
"Come on." Finally Daniels chose to stand and make leave from the dingy alleyway. "They said we're allowed to move on now."
Jonathan blinked, and when he opened his eyes from the unconscious action he found he was blind. Daniels jumped as Jonathan did, more afraid of the swinging power in the Captain's arms than by what initially made Jonathan jump.
"What the--"
His fingers scanned his face and in their search they found a pair of slick, frameless sunglasses, which he pulled off suddenly, not quite amused by their unexplained appearance. Yet another shadow cast over his eyes turned out to have a guilty source derived from a red threaded baseball cap. He held both items out to Daniels accusingly.
"Famous in history or not, if you have at least a basic cover people shouldn't think it's you. Maybe an uncanny look-alike, if anyone even gives you a second glance, but no more. You have been dead for quite some time you know."
Jonathan gave him a tight, meaningless smile.
"Yeah, I got that. Where did they come from?"
Daniels shrugged. You tell me."
With that Daniels was heading out the alleyway and back into the sun kissed high street overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge, leaving a quietly frustrated Jonathan behind until he gathered his feet and began to follow.
"So about why I'm telling you all this and not T'Pol. Well when has there ever been a time when you haven't been allowed to play hero yet, eh?"
Jonathan could not remember Daniels ever having such a bold, dry wit before, but he played along with it and patiently waited for the messenger to carry on.
"What's a First Officer without her Captain?"
Jonathan smiled weakly. "The Captain herself."
Daniels smiled with him. "True, but no, not in this case. Look, I can't say too much. What I have told you is simply either the mistaken past, which you've already had to live though - sorry about that - or the largest scope of what will happen if things aren't fixed. No details, I can't specify details, I just have to say that you need to be there with her when she makes the negotiations, and it helps if you know the details as well, okay?"
Jonathan frowned, feeling he should just keep the dip in his brow permanent. Looking down at the shorter man though, who at his side matched him stride for stride, he could not help but feel some due respect and trust for him.
Alright, I can do that. I'd do that anyway."
Daniels beamed. "Good. The future and my promotion thank you."
Jonathan nodded, feeling a strange, unsure warmth creeping in to line his wavering smile.
"You're welcome."
Daniels took a look around at the fresh September day. There may have been nothing in the air to Jonathan, but to him he could feel the current of human aspiration and pride trickle through the cool, welcoming breezes. That happiness and the spirit it carried through accumulated and radiated from Starfleet itself, and Daniels looked over in the direction across the bridge, smiling contently to himself.
"The time line's safe now. Or at least for now. So I suppose doing a little travelling about wouldn't entirely hurt, would it?"
Jonathan held back the frown from his brow and looked at Daniels almost with no expression as he kept himself calm.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to take you up on the offer of seeing-"
They were standing at the back of a rather large and impatient crowd, most of the shadowed rear viewers on their tiptoes as they trembled with excitement. Jonathan was not one of those who trembled with excitement necessarily.
"Dani--"
Someone rushed to his side and hushed his quickly. It was Daniels... he guessed. Now rid of his usual black time travelling gear he wore instead three-quarter length grey trousers and a colourful Hawaiian shirt. He chose to speak in a whisper.
"I'm not quite as famous as you. I can pull this off."
Jonathan cocked a brow, challenging his use of words in the latter sentence. Daniels smiled.
"Look to your left."
Hesitantly and further confused, slowly he did anyway.
"T'P-"
She hushed him quickly, bringing the tips of her fingers to rest on his dry lips.
"I believe my name is as well known here as yours is."
He had to squint slightly, more stumped by her 'cover' than he was his own and Daniels. Most of her head had been swallowed by a scarf of a fine silvery silk, organza, but being rather naïve on fabrics he didn't know this. A slight line of her forehead showed but apart from that it was only the middle of her face that he could see. She also wore sunglasses. And a white, sleeveless polo neck. And a white ankle-length skirt. And silver sandals. She was dressed very much like a human.
"I did not choose-"
She was in his arms, again. It was getting to be a... habit, she assumed was the right human terminology. However she saw it as being one of those... quirky habits, and gratefully returned his embrace after being promised herself she would eventually see Jonathan again, as soon as Daniels had told her everything.
"We have to go back to the trial."
He grudgingly pulled himself away as she spoke up, still holding onto her shoulders with no less a splitting smile on his face as he nodded vigorously.
"I know, I know, he told me everything." Then he blinked once and tilted his head to the side. "He told you too? But-"
Daniels tapped his shoulder, keeping his tone at a whisper's strength.
"It would be best if you just accepted that I'm good at my job, Sir."
Nodding slowly in a silent 'alright' Jonathan then turned back to T'Pol, the smile cracking his face again as Daniels kept his own eyes front. She didn't smile, but she was obviously enough pleased to see him. Eye contact hard to make between the sunglasses that they both wore, they nonetheless held a longing gaze between them and spoke quietly for a moment through that before Jonathan whispered to her above the electric murmur of the crowd in front of them.
"About what you said, before, before you..."
She nodded in understanding. "I apologies for that. I am... not sure if it was entirely appropriate to say, especially amidst the circumstances. But, my uncertainties aside, I am sure that what I said... was..."
He could see she was struggling. He was struggling to comprehend. So lest the moment be spoiled he hushed her again and calmed his beaming grin to a gentle, emotional smile.
She watched him carefully as he dared to make the major first move and lean forward slightly. This was not a foreign human act to her, not one she hadn't committed before, and so she did the appropriate and rested her palm against his chest, making herself slightly taller as he approached. His breath may have been hot, but it was the only thing she could feel in this time, the air around her being dead to show her she was not entirely welcome where she was. She savoured it just as he suddenly yearned for the soft texture of her face.
The crowd in front of them erupted. Both jumping then pulled away from each other with a fluster of red gracing their pale cheeks. Jonathan, turning to give Daniels an uneasy, guilty look, saw the time traveller was engaged with his eyes front instead. To his other side T'Pol finally chose to look up at what everyone else had been gazing impatiently at.
They were in a white room with a domelike figure and massive capacity to hold thousands almost. At least it seemed thousands were with them now as they all craned their necks up to see one thing; a large screen bent right the way around the curved walls of the top of the room. The same image reiterated itself several times around the room, and T'Pol, Jonathan and Daniels all focused on the same one that to them was directly up front.
He wore a dark yellow top, nothing fancy, no decorations except a motif of sorts on the right side of his chest. Below he wore only a pair of comfortable black trousers. He was young but experienced looking, with a smile that could last an eternity in your memory. It was a smile that looked beyond belief at what was happening around him, and one that knew exactly what had to be done now. Above all else it was a charming, deviant smile. His eyes fitted perfectly with it.
He stood tall in front of a bridge. A bridge not unlike Enterprise's with the all-important Captain's chair almost at the front-centre and several other stations dotted around it. He stood in front of the chair with his chest out and his back straight, his crew around him ready and clearly raring to go.
T'Pol spotted the Vulcan before Jonathan, and knew his name to be Spock, the First Officer and Science Officer aboard the U.S.S Enterprise, Captained by the legendary James T. Kirk of who was yet to still exist for a few decades in their time.
"Firstly, I would like to thank my mother-"
His voice captivated the audience into utter, awe filled silence. It was then that Daniels turned to the equally captivated couple.
"You two did a lot of good, to assure this happens. The future really does have a lot to thank you for. Unfortunately we can't stay here, as good as this man's speech becomes. They're saying we're cutting it too close now, and we don't argue with Them, no matter how audacious we feel. Alex is almost done with the judge anyway, so things have pretty much been fixed."
Daniels looked once back at the booming image of Captain Kirk before back to the oddly disguised couple with yet another of his crooked, unsure smiles in place.
"So now it's to home, and the night before the trial, which I'm sure we all remember well enough."
Jonathan and T'Pol shared a look.
"Anyway, we can't leave that poor man running Columbia much longer, he's about to get it blown up."
Jonathan choked, even T'Pol had to frown.
"Wha-"
But then they were gone again, and found themselves sleeping soundly in the two beds of Jonathan's apartment, the night before T'Pol's big trial.
. . . . . . .
"You have five minutes human, in which to hand back that Vulcan, or your ship will no longer exist in the state it is in now!"
Trip looked long and hard back at the Andorian. His mind was cast only briefly back to ten minutes ago, where he and Malcolm has assured their new guest felt comfortable where she was. She could not have looked more thankful to see food and a bed and her gratitude continued to take voice until they had had to leave her for the bridge, where she instead began to thank Phlox repeatedly instead.
"Y' can chase us across the galaxy for her and for all ah care, you aint gettin' her back! Travis go to Warp 5.8."
"But Sir-"
"Now!"
And so the floors began to tremble just as Yulae broke off his transmission.
"Sir, they're locking their weapons."
Trip sat back in the chair, gripping the leather arms tightly.
"Get the torpedoes ready to fire back."
He felt a suicidal pulse jab at his racing blood flow.
"Sir, ten seconds until they fire."
Travis worked furiously at the console, urging on the reluctant engines. The comm. Spoke from on his chair.
"Sir? What you doing up there, the engines are going crazy!"
Trip finally looked back at the bridge door, almost frantically. One finally shudder meant they were finally tearing through space, and seconds later Yulae's ship was following.
"Sir, they're aiming the weapons for our engines instead now. If they hit them successfully at this speed we most likely wont stop until we hot something."
Trip looked fleetingly back at Malcolm, and the Englishman caught a terrible sight; a complete loss of hope in his saddened blue eyes. It was something no one else saw.
"Hoshi, hail the Andorians."
"No time Sir," Malcolm interjected, "We have five seconds until they fire."
Ahead on screen Trip thought he saw the glimmer of a planet's sun, although he could not see any planet. He wondered if this was what would stop them as their tore with no engine through the backyard of space.
The other four looked up at him quietly, their minds travelling along the same wavelength as they each in turn focused on the bright blue spark ahead. Trip's view became blinded by watery guilt.
"Jon, ah'm truly-"
Wherever he was, Daniels smiled, clearly pleased with himself and what he had managed to fix today.