Fertility Rites
Author: Syzygy
Notes: This story begins some time after the events of Home and The Forge.
Category: Romance, Drama.
Rating: Rated PG for suggestive scenes and strong emotional content.
Archive: With permission
Disclaimer: Paramount Television owns Star Trek®, Star Trek: Enterprise® and the characters associated with them. I have and will accept no financial gain from this story.
Chapter One
Star Fleet Headquarters, San Francisco
October 15, 2155
T'Pol lit the candle with practiced economy. Not a meditation candle, it was for ambiance, a quality she hadn't appreciated until coming to Earth. Nevertheless, she took a moment to gaze at the candle's bright flame; to calm herself for what she felt sure was going to happen tonight. Something she wanted, yet feared. Something she felt was right, but must refuse.
Her reverie was broken by the overly loud, annoying buzz from the door. T'Pol looked around the small apartment one last time, ensuring everything was in readiness for her visitor.
It wasn't much to look at. Clean, serviceable, but little more. Barely three rooms decorated with generic government issue furnishings. Star Fleet's Bachelor Officers' Quarters were little more than way stations for officers between assignments. That T'Pol had lived here for six months was indicative of her situation. Static, waiting.
Waiting for today.
She braced herself and opened the door to Trip's smiling face.
"Hi, T'Pol," Trip said neutrally as he stepped inside. He was always careful not to show too much affection where others might see. It was a courtesy T'Pol the Vulcan appreciated, but one which T'Pol the woman found vaguely, and unaccountably, annoying.
Once the door was closed, though, things were decidedly different. Trip encircled T'Pol with his arms, planting a kiss on her waiting lips. "I'm not late, am I?" he asked after coming up for air.
"No," T'Pol replied. "In fact you are six minutes and twenty seconds early." She didn't wear a watch and there wasn't a clock to be seen in the small suite.
"How do you do that?" he asked, shaking his head in amused annoyance. Trip would probably be late for his own funeral. He knew she did it just to irritate him.
T'Pol said nothing and to an outsider her expression would seem innocently neutral, but Trip could see the smile in her eyes as she brushed two fingers across his lips. It was an odd gesture, but one that was typical of their relationship. A compromise, if you will, between a human-style kiss and the Vulcan ak'lota, or companionable touch used by mated Vulcans. Trip thought it was sexy has hell.
"It is simply a matter of intellect and discipline," T'Pol said over her shoulder as she made her way into the kitchen.
"Meaning what?" Trip asked, taking off his coat and throwing it over a chair. She was baiting him. He knew it, but couldn't have stopped himself if his life depended on it. "I'm not smart enough to tell time?"
"Your intellect is not in question," T'Pol said from the kitchen.
"You're telling me I'm not disciplined?" Trip asked as T'Pol made her way to the table.
"I have studied flora with longer attention spans," T'Pol replied as she put dinner on the table.
"Har har har," Trip said sarcastically, turning T'Pol around and wrapping her in his arms. A kiss took the edge off his tone. After a moment T'Pol gently broke the kiss but didn't step out of his embrace.
"We should eat before the food gets cold," she said softly.
"And before anything else gets hot?" Trip said.
"Indeed," T'Pol replied, one eyebrow delicately raised.
"Smells good," Trip said, taking his seat. "What is it?"
"A vegetable curry from the market near the Admiralty."
"More vegetables," Trip said dejectedly. "I'm going to die of protein deficiency."
"Unlikely," she replied, refusing to be baited.
After dinner Trip and T'Pol sat on the couch, watching the fire and listening to the rain drum on the windows.
"T'Pol," Trip said, breaking the silence. "It's been fourteen months and twelve days."
"Yes," she answered quietly. Fourteen months and twelve days since Koss died. One Vulcan year since her husband died trying to stop the abortive coup his father and other government ministers had planned to blame on the Syrrannites.
"Dö rhin'tu'pok Ka nöntet," Trip said. Your period of respectful mourning is complete.
T'Pol looked up in surprise. After Koss' death, she'd explained Vulcan funeral rituals to Trip, including the year-long mourning period. She had expected him to bring the subject up, but had no idea he'd been studying Vulcan.
"Your accent is...unusual," she said, brushing her fingers across his lips.
"Hoshi's off somewhere on Armstrong. I had to learn from a teaching program," Trip said. "It's not that bad, is it?" he asked, a little concern creeping into his voice.
"You are understandable," she answered, and then leaned up to kiss him.
"Good." Trip shifted around to face T'Pol and took her hands in his own. He had what Hoshi called his 'little boy face' on.
"Pa tak'lu quan shanät dök'na t'Pol q'tanq. K'ra royka te kah'lifee." T'Pol, whose clan name I do not know, I claim you. Will you seek a challenger? T'Pol, will you marry me?
The words practically stunned T'Pol. She had suspected he would ask her to marry him, but hearing his proposal in the archaically formal Old High Vulcan affected her viscerally. It was like hearing an entire orchestra when all she expected was a single violin.
T'Pol held herself very still for a moment, gathering her wits. Then she slowly withdrew her hands from his, and in a small voice said, "I cannot marry you, Trip."
"What?!" Trip said, shock written on his face. "We talked about this..." He started to stand.
T'Pol reached out with lightening fast reflexes, clamping her hand around his wrist. She didn't apply pressure, but her Vulcan strength meant they might as well be chained together. He was not going to walk away before she had a chance to explain.
"Listen to me," T'Pol interrupted. She closed her eyes for a moment.
"I cannot marry you," she told him. "Because I believe you would come to regret having a Vulcan mate." It was the hardest thing she'd ever said.
Trip took a deep breath to settle himself. He was a hothead. He knew he was a hothead. But what he needed right now was to be calm, rational. He took another breath before speaking.
"Why do you think I'd ever regret marrying you?" His voice was deceptively mild, though his heart was pounding.
"You come from a large family. You wish to father children some day." T'Pol raised her eyes to Trip's face. "We cannot have children together."
Trip's expression softened. "T'Pol, you don't know that," he said quietly. "After all," he said, a wry smile coming to his lips. "I've already been pregnant with an alien baby once."
T'Pol felt her own lips twitch at that. "The situations are not comparable," she said. "Neither Earth or Vulcan possess the techniques necessary to create a human – Vulcan hybrid."
"You make it sound so romantic," Trip said. "Look..."
T'Pol squeezed his wrist gently. "I have my research at the Admiralty. You are Chief Engineer for the Warp 9 project." T'Pol released his wrist and moved her hand to touch Trip's cheek. "I will be content to be your companion, your...lover, until you find a suitable human woman to marry."
Trip sat back with a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "T'Pol, you are the smartest person I know, but I swear, sometimes..."
"It is a logical course of action," T'Pol said quietly.
That was it. He had had it. Damned Vulcan logic bullsh...
"Listen to me Miss Commander T'Pol of Vulcan. This is love, not logic. Love. Got it? Do I want children? Yes, I do. But I want your children, not some squalling brats from some woman I don't even know. Human knowledge doubles every eight years. On Vulcan, who knows? We might not be able to do it now, but a year or ten years from now we might. And if we still can't have children, then so what? There are dozens of different ways to be parents. We can adopt. We can find surrogates. Hell, who knows what might be possible in a few years. But I'll be damned if I'm going to lose you over this. Children or no children, I want to marry you. So unless this is some way for you to get out of marrying me because you don't want to it's a dumb thing to worry about and..."
Trip only stopped talking because he'd run out of air. He sat back, breathing heavily.
T'Pol stared at him, head tilted in surprised at his vehemence. "This is not an attempt to 'get out' of marrying you," she said calmly.
"Good!" Trip barked.
"You would be satisfied with a mate who could not bear your children?"
"Damned right!" Trip said, still seething.
"If you are sincere in what you just said then I accept your proposal."
"Good!" Trip spun around to look at T'Pol. "Really?"
"Pa kah'lifee tö royka.." I will seek no challenger.
Johns Hopkins University Medical Center, Baltimore
June 21, 2156
"I'm sorry Captain Tucker, Commander T'Pol, but it's just not possible."
"You haven't even tried," Trip said.
Dr. Marshall was a compassionate man, dedicated to medicine and science. He was also one of the best geneticists on Earth. But there were some things science couldn't do. Over the years he'd found it best not to give false hope.
"No, we haven't. But we have thoroughly studied the possibility. It's simply not possible to create a human – Vulcan hybrid given the current state of the art," Dr. Marshall told him. Trip bridled at the description of his future child but remained silent.
"Allow me to illustrate what you're asking us to do." Dr. Marshall steepled his fingers before going on. T'Pol nodded.
"Humans have forty-six chromosomes," the doctor said. "With a possible twenty-five thousand different possible genetic sequences. Vulcans have forty-two chromosomes with even more possible sequences."
"We would have to find a way to combine every one of the disparate sequences, find some way to handle the different number of chromosomes and have a healthy, functioning sentient being as the end result."
"But we've been fixing genes and changing chromosomes for over a century. We even created a bunch of supermen, remember?" Trip was frustrated and it was starting to show.
"Yes, Captain, we have. And we did," Dr. Marshall said. "But this isn't simply recombining human genetic sequences. Nor is it a matter of redesigning a human to produce copper based hemoglobin. We would have to design every system, every chemical and neurological process essentially from scratch. We would, in fact, be designing an entirely new species with both Vulcan and human traits."
"Dr. Chen in Brussels has been experimenting with synthetic DNA to replace damaged genetic structures. Have you consulted with her on this matter?" T'Pol asked.
"Yes, Commander. She was one of the first people I contacted after our initial meeting. She concurs with my assessment. She won't even attempt it," Dr. Marshall told her bluntly. He didn't tell her that Dr Chen had laughed out loud at the very prospect.
"Did you get my medical records from Star Fleet?" Trip asked.
"I did. Dr. Phlox's records were thorough and well organized. Your pregnancy was well documented, Captain Tucker," Dr. Marshall said, managing not to grin
"Were you able to derive any helpful information from the records, Doctor?" T'Pol asked.
"Unfortunately no, Commander. The alien embryo's development was well documented, but Dr.Phlox could only provide anecdotal or superficial information regarding the techniques involved in its creation."
"Thank you for your time, Doctor," T'Pol said as she stood.
"But..." Trip started.
T'Pol put her hand on Trip's shoulder. "There is nothing he can do for us. We should go."
Trip got up. "Thanks anyway, Doctor."
Dr. Marshall came around his desk to walk the couple to the door. "I'm sorry we can't help you, but scientific and medical advances come all the time. In a few years, who knows? Um, Captain Tucker?"
Trip stopped at the door and turned to look back at Dr. Marshall. "Yes?"
"You really thought it was just a bowl of rocks?"
California Office of Adoption Services, Sacramento
September 6, 2156
"I'm sorry, Captain, Ms Tucker, but the board has decided not to put your names on the global registry."
"Her name is Commander T'Pol and why not?" Trip hated bureaucracies. They all seemed to be about getting the minimum amount of work done with the maximum amount of effort. It offended the engineer in him. Today it was really pissing off the husband in him.
"Of course, Commander T'Pol. My apologies." Ms. Snodgrass seemed to ignore T'Pol even in the midst of apologizing to her.
"No offense was taken," T'Pol said. Ms Snodgrass didn't show any signs of having heard her.
"And again, why not?" Trip asked.
"There are very few children available for adoption and we are very selective in choosing suitable adoptive parents."
"Why have we been deemed unsuitable?" T'Pol asked. No one other than Trip could have detected the tremor in her voice.
"Both of you are Star Fleet officers," Ms Snodgrass said, directing her answer to Trip. "Your career takes you away from Earth for long periods of time. And it's a dangerous profession." She hit a few keys, scrolling through the records. "Almost twenty percent of your crew didn't come home from your last voyage."
"That mission was a little different. You do watch the news, don't you? You know, the Xindi?" T'Pol touched Trip's hand to calm him. Anger wouldn't help him make their case and would certainly prejudice them further.
"In any case, we don't have ship duty now." Trip looked at T'Pol. "T'Pol does research at Star Fleet Headquarters and I work at the ETF outside Oakland. The most dangerous thing I do every day is eat the food in the mess hall."
"ETF?" Ms Snodgrass scrolled through her records looking for the acronym. She'd completely missed his attempt at humor.
"Engineering Test Facility. My husband designs and tests warp reactors and nacelles," T'Pol answered. Ms Snodgrass nodded her head without looking up from the screen.
"But you can't guarantee that you won't be assigned hazardous duty in the future, can you?"
"No, we cannot," T'Pol admitted. "We are each subject to reassignment upon completion of our tours of duty. Similarly, we may be assigned temporary shipboard duty at any time should an emergency or crisis arise."
After a moment to reflect, Trip added, "But I can resign from Star Fleet today." T'Pol turned to look at her husband, clearly surprised at his offer.
Trip smiled at T'Pol. "Hey, I get offers every week. You know that. The president of Ares Interstellar tracked me down at lunch last week just to offer me a job as V.P of research and development."
T'Pol nodded her agreement.
"Would that help us get on the list?" Trip asked the bureaucrat.
"It would eliminate one problem." She hesitated for a moment. "But there would still be other matters." Her eyes cut to T'Pol for a brief second.
"What?" Trip blurted. "You have a problem with T'Pol?"
Trip stood up and leaned over Snodgrass' desk. "Is that it?" he demanded.
Snodgrass screwed up what little courage she had. "It's a well known fact that a Vulcan mother couldn't give a child the love..."
"Let me tell you something you pimple on a Klingon's butt," Trip said. "My wife, my Vulcan wife, has more love, devotion and compassion than anyone I know. She'd be a great mother and any child would be damned lucky to have her. She'll be a great mother, with your help or without it."
"Captain Tucker, this meeting is over. Leave my office or I'll call the police."
"You bigoted little..."
"Trip, we should go now." T'Pol took Trip by the arm and steered him toward the door. She'd watched the exchange knowing she should intervene but had been unable to suppress a certain joy at watching her husband berate the unpleasant woman.
Turning back to Ms Snodgrass, T'Pol said "Bigotry is not exclusively a human trait. Some Vulcans believe humans are incapable of rational thought. Unfortunately they are not always wrong."
With that she was out the door, leaving Ms Snodgrass sputtering her reply.
Later that evening Trip tiptoed into the bedroom carrying a cup of tea for T'Pol. Hearing him enter she stepped out of the little alcove they'd set aside for her meditation.
"Sorry. I didn't want to disturb you," Trip said.
"You did not. I am having difficulty meditating this evening."
Trip set the cup down on the night stand. "Well, that probably is my fault." He kissed his wife and reached up to stroke the tip of her ear. T'Pol closed her eyes at the pleasurable sensation. "I shouldn't have let that little..."
"You were under extreme provocation," T'Pol told him, eyes still closed. "She should not be in a position of authority."
"It would be so much simpler if we could have kids the old fashioned way."
T'Pol opened her eyes. "It would." She brushed her fingers across his lips. Trip recognized the predatory gleam in her eyes. "Would you like to practice the necessary technique?" she asked.
Star Fleet Engineering Test Facility, Oakland
September 23, 2156
Trip downloaded the new data from Hercules, the engine test rig at the Lagrange 4 point. Located in Earth's orbit, but 60 degrees behind Earth itself, it was a suitable location to test nasty little things like un-tuned warp engines and anti-matter reactors. If anything went boom it would happen far away from Earth and the more congested traffic routes.
The only downside, as far as Trip was concerned, was the time delay getting equipment to and from the test rig. But he figured it was worth the extra time if it kept a good chunk of northern California from disappearing in the pure light of an anti-matter explosion.
The engine currently being tested was scheduled to go into Hermes' starboard nacelle in three weeks. Trip was running it at two hundred percent power for seventy-two hours straight. Only then would he certify it for installation. He knew what ships went through out in the dark. He'd spent enough time repairing them far from home.
None of his ships would die because their engines weren't up to the job.
The terminal on his desk chimed. Trip sighed. He really didn't have time for this, but pressed the accept key anyway. T'Pol's face appeared on the screen.
"Good morning, Commander," Trip said, ever mindful of his wife's public reserve. "What can I do for you?"
"I received a private communiqué from Vulcan this morning," T'Pol said.
"Is T'Les alright?" he asked. Trip liked T'Pol's mother. And she hadn't put up too much of a fuss when T'Pol told her she was marrying Trip, so he supposed she liked him back. Oddly enough, Trip seemed to get along with female Vulcans just fine. It was the male Vulcans who made his fists itch.
"She is well to the best of my knowledge. This communiqué is not from my mother. It is from an Academician V'Lor." T'Pol held up the little yellow message chip. "She is with the Sayon Genetics Research Institute," she added meaningfully. "According to the message, she believes she can assist us." She said no more on an open line.
Trip knew his wife. If she was calling about this during working hours it something he needed to know as soon as possible. He took a chance.
"So, when does the next transport leave?" Trip would have bet a year's pay T'Pol had the answer.
"The Buenos Aires breaks orbit in five hours. There is another transport leaving in four days."
"Let's be on this one," Trip said, grinning from ear to ear.
TBC