WARNING! This is the companion...or rather...mirror to the episode, Extinction...which was, once again, T'Pol/Archer heavy. Instead of ignoring it (which I will be doing with Carpenter Street), I'm revising the plot so that it fits my twisted view of the universe. Yes...I AM EVIL!

A/N...for those interested...I have plotted out the rest of the season so well that, if you express interest, I will email you an exclusive hint/spoiler...Not an excerpt from a future chappi...more like a clue to the developing storylines...and, if you know this spoiler, it will INCREASE SUSPENSE AND MYSTERY! You will know what to look for! But for those of you not interested...you will be shocked! SHOCKED, I TELL YOU, SHOCKED! Actually it doesn't matter...in exactly, ten chapters (including this one) it will be revealed...but it's a good idea to know the spoiler...

Extinction-REVISED
Trip smiled at Ensign Doherty as he explained his new "important" news in the new situation room. The captain, Hoshi, and Malcolm all gritted their teeth, however. The man had been rambling for ten minutes, and yes, the captain was right. The man was downright monotonous. If Trip has ever thought T'Pol the same, then this completely changed his view of her.

"Doherty, get on with it!" The captain rasped, obviously as tired as the rest of the senior crew at being led on for ten minutes and learning nothing.

"Yes, captain! I have found a Xindi ship," Doherty enthused, his red hair matching his face for the moment, whether from embarrassment at being caught rambling or the excitement of the find, Trip didn't know.

"A Xindi ship?" Hoshi asked, leaning forward in attention, as seemed to be the entire room.

Doherty smiled. "Yes. It's crashed on a planet only a light-year from here. It was hard to detect it, but once we got the signal it was cake."

"Signal?" Trip asked.

"Yes, it's emitting a signal, some kind of distress message. It was decaying so I had to work to trace it."

"Good work, Ensign," Captain Archer stated for the young man's benefit. He was obviously looking for some kind of recognition; after all, T'Pol's shoes had to be hard to fill in, or so everyone always took the chance to tell the young man. On that thought, the Captain punched a button on the door panel and waited for the answering beep. "Travis? Set course for these coordinates."

The captain nodded to Doherty who practically yelled them out with glee. Trip covered his laugh with a cough and both him and Malcolm made their goodbyes before they cracked.

"Did you see that bugger? Could he be any farther up the Captain's arse?" Malcolm laughed as they stepped into the turbolift.

"I'm surprised at you, Malcolm. Dissing your fellow Englishman?"

"English? He's Irish! And there's no way he's anything of mine."

Trip winced. "Ouch...what's the matter with you? He make a dig about the size of your torpedoes?" Malcolm shook his head, so Trip thought again...and remembered something from the meeting. "He's getting awful close to Hoshi, ain't he? They've had dinner a lot together...I see them...and I bet you do, too."

Malcolm blushed and ignored the implication. "I don't see anything. Where are you heading?"

Trip grinned and let his friend off the hook...for now. "B deck, I'm gonna catch a nap before my shift."

Malcolm turned in concern to his friend and noticed what Trip was continually ignoring. Trip's color was bad, the bags under his eyes deep. He was constantly nipping off to catch naps. "Have you talked to the doctor?"

"I'm fine, damnit! Why does everyone ask me that? I just need sleep. Even T'Pol nags me about-..."

"T'Pol! You've been talking to T'Pol?" Malcolm asked, turning the awkward tables on Trip.

"Not so often..." Trip trailed off as Malcolm's eyes widened dramatically.

"So that's the mysterious calls you take every night?"

"What are you talking about?" Trip asked, practically bursting from the turbolift as it stopped on B deck. Instead of staying on the lift, though, Malcolm followed Trip off, ignoring the fact that he was due back on the bridge.

"Hoshi says that almost every night, she transfers a call from a Starfleet switchboard to your quarters. She never speaks to the person on the other side, interestingly enough, since that person enters your extension and is transferred automatically. She thought it might be your parents, until that same person started talking to the captain too. It's T'Pol, isn't it?" Malcolm continued haranguing Trip, much like a dog on a bone.

"Tha's ridiculous, Mal. Your English imagination is comin' to life. Imaginin' ghosts everywhere. Maybe you need to see the doc," Trip said as he hurried into his quarters, giving the Security Officer no chance to reply.

T'Pol talks to the captain as often as me? Guess I'm not so special after all. Just imaginin' things where there are none. Trip assured himself, concealing the flicker of disappointment far beneath his skin.

T'Pol studied the large brownstone in front of her and struggled to see why humans found it so pleasing to the eye. It seemed to her as appealing as every other house she'd studied today, and there had been many. Tudors, ranches, condos, and villas, not to mention even more brownstones.

San Francisco was as fair weathered as ever, and T'Pol was taking advantage to find her new home. Though, she was welcome at the Vulcan consulate, it was all but deserted. The Vulcan High Command had removed all Vulcans from Earth, leaving only a ship in orbit. T'Pol supposed it was there for a "quick getaway" in case of another attack. T'Pol had decided with much thought that she was going to rent an apartment among the populace. The Admiral had thought it a great idea and sent one of his aides along to help her choose a suitable place.

"This is a good neighborhood and it's quite close to the coast!" The realtor, blonde and blue-eyed, and everything T'Pol was not, practically shined with enthusiasm. She was gesturing to the house and it's surrounding areas, but soon continued inside. "The house is on the edge of a hill so it looks down on an amazing view. The bedroom window looks right at the ocean! I'd live here if I could!"

"Then why do you not?" T'Pol asked, following at a polite distance. Thomas McCoy, the Admiral's aide, followed her. Despite her uneasiness about having a human companion she did not know, the man had soon eased her tension, reminding her of Phlox with his easy smile and disarming wit.

The realtor faltered, not expecting the question. Most people nodded and smiled and let her continue without asking questions. Not that she minded the Vulcan woman asking questions! She enjoyed answering questions. You see, Serena, which was the realtor's name, was a people person, even if that person happened to be a Vulcan. "Oh! I have a house in the West End I'm restoring. This place is beautiful, but that place is home." Serena continued with the tour, parrying questions fielded by the cute aide who followed, and leaving T'Pol to look around.

T'Pol saw the two of them softly conversing in the kitchen about property value near "Hurricane Alley" and walked through apartment alone. It took up an entire floor and was logically too much space for one person. T'Pol thought back to what the realtor had said. Home. T'Pol would try to make this Earth as comfortable as possible while she was there. It seemed more and more like she would be here a while.

T'Pol studied the view of the ocean from the bedroom window and agreed with the realtor. It was a pleasing view. She could see the ships in the water, and farther out, even larger "cruise" ships. On land, she could see Starfleet, and many, many buildings. As T'Pol stood there, the sun began to set...causing the sky to go bright orange and glint off the water and right into her face. T'Pol put up her hand and studied the sight before her. The light and water and the way they interacted reminded T'Pol of when she'd been younger and had camped on the edge of Lake Hileya. It had been the first time she'd been left alone in the wilderness of Vulcan. The experience had taught T'Pol to depend on herself and that not always would there be someone around to aid her. When the sun had risen in the morning, it had looked like this.

"I'll take it."

Serena and Thomas stopped their quiet flirting and turned to the stoic Vulcan. She had a resolve on her face that brokered no arguments. "I'll have the papers drawn up. We can decide what the price will be when..."

"I'll pay the price on the advertisement," T'Pol stated. Thomas automatically started to object and Serena agreed.

"We inflate those prices, ma'am. I don't want to over-..."

"I will pay the price on the advertisement," T'Pol stated again, crossing her arms for emphasis.

Serena knew this would be a big sale for her but had liked the Vulcan immediately and made a side note to take off a couple credits anyways. "Okay. As I was saying, there's a small pub not far from here that many people in the neighborhood go to. Since this is taken care of, would you two like to join me and celebrate?"

"I will decline, I have things to do at the consulate," T'Pol explained, wanting to return to her quarters at Starfleet so that she could make sure she made the arrangements for her things immediately.

Thomas looked uncertain. "I guess I'll accompany you-..."

"Nonsense. I do not need your guidance, Mr. McCoy. I can find my way," T'Pol said, feeling very old in the face of the Serena and Thomas's obvious infatuation for one another. Serena obviously wanted Thomas to go with her.

"I know that, but..."

"No objections," T'Pol stated. "I'll be fine. I pity the person who thinks to attack me. I do have the second highest qualification in the lethal fighting style of Kolnacktor."

"Yes, Comman-..."

T'Pol shook her head. "Not yet, Mr. McCoy."

Thomas grinned and blushed as T'Pol turned and retraced her steps out of the building. Thinking her out of earshot, Serena let out a sigh. "What an odd Vulcan."

Thomas stiffened. "Yes, she can be."

Serena immediately noticed her faux-pas. "No! I mean that a good way. I like her. She's...interesting."

Thomas relaxed and smiled. "Don't tell anyone, but me too. Shall we go to...O'Reilly's, I believe you called it?"

"Yes, please," Serena gushed, laying her hand in the crook of Thomas's arm. She not only liked the Vulcan, but the human with her, as well. They left the building headed East, not noticing the Vulcan heading West, into the sun, and making an impressive figure with her head held high and her slightly feline walk. Unbeknownst to the trio, someone did notice...and kept watch of her figure until it was necessary for him to walk behind her to keep her in sight.

She reached Starfleet unaccosted, but that was the spy's mission. To watch and observe and when the time came, to take her out.

Trip steadied himself against the captain's chair and struggled to comprehend. After three hours of no contact from the surface, where the away team consisting of Captain Archer, Hoshi, Malcolm, and Phlox (who had insisted on going in case one of the Xindi had been injured in the crash, which the Captain had of course argued with but inevitably lost) had lost contact after disclosing that the site of the crash was very old and abandoned, Phlox had finally made contact with the Enterprise again...but with bad news.

"They're changing as a fast pace. Without the proper medical equipment I have no chance of finding a way to stop this, Commander."

"What are you suggestin', Doc?"

"I'll send up the information in my scanner. Use the equipment in Sickbay to help you find out what is going on! Hold on...they're...moving..." Phlox sounded very irate, and suddenly it sounded as if he was moving very quickly. "I must keep them in sight but stay out of sight. This is actually quite fascinating. They keep repeating a word...Urkat? No, Urquat."

"Why can' you just come up and do it?" Trip asked, looking around him on the bridge for a familiar face to back him up, but while they were familiar, no one but Travis was a close friend and he was only looking at the Commander blankly.

"I fear I'm infected too. And without the equipment to find a cure of some sort I can't safely decontaminate myself. I could spread this to the entire ship."

"Even if you send up the info, we're going to need like a sample or somethin' right?" Trip asked, searching his brain for clues. He had no idea how to deal with a medical emergency! He was an engineer for Christ's sake!

"Yes, you're right," Phlox said, obviously frazzled out of his mind. Trip could hear some kind of language in the background.

"What's goin' on?"

"They've spotted me and are circling me..."

"Phlox!"

"Bring a ship...wear EV suits and you should be safe...take one of them back with you...he'll be your example and guinea pig, so to speak..." Phlox spoke softly, not wanting to startle his comrades, who were obviously on edge.

"Alright. Hold tight! Me and Trav will be down in a few minutes," Trip nodded to the Ensign at the comm. and she cut the transmission. Then, he gestured to Travis. "Let's go."

T'Pol stood and stretched, reaching her arms up to the ceiling and bending low. One advantage of being Vulcan was being double-jointed...everywhere. It made it quite easy to crack the bones that were stiff from sitting for so long. It was done, however. Her first proposal to Starfleet.

She knew that she had only just decided to buy an apartment hours before, and that Admiral Forrest, her superior, had told her to wait before starting work on her new project, but she hadn't felt the need to sleep. Instead, she'd studied the materials sent over about a new radioactive isotope and had drawn up a proposal of precautions to send to Admiral Forrest.

T'Pol studied the clock and saw that she had several hours before her meeting with the Admiral. T'Pol decided to call and see if Commander Tucker was awake. Usually on Wednesdays he was scheduled for the late shift, so he should be leaving Engineering about now. She went through appropriate channels and waited while his terminal tried to alert him. This went on for quite a while. Obviously he was not in his quarters. At one in the morning. He wasn't on duty. As Chief Engineer he was not required to work the "graveyard shift" as he put it, and he took full advantage of that.

T'Pol backtracked and waited for Ensign Sato to open a channel. Even that took some time and when the channel opened it was not Ensign Sato that answered, but a frightened looking woman with a shock of red hair. "Starship Enterprise. How may I help you?"

"I would like to speak with Commander Tucker."

"Oh, okay. He's in sickbay, let me route you," the girl looked pleased to be able to stop talking to her, T'Pol noted, then remembered what the slip of a girl had said. Commander Tucker was in sickbay? Had he been hurt? Had there been an attack?

When Commander Tucker finally opened her channel she studied him sharply. "Are you injured?"

The commander looked startled...and tired. "No. Why?"

"I tried you in your quarters and you didn't answer and the Ensign at the comm. said you were in Sickbay. It's logical to assume you'd be injured," T'Pol explained.

"No...but I have a problem you can help with!" Trip said with sudden insight. "There's some sort of virus attackin' the cap'n and Hoshi and-..." BAM! In the background, T'Pol could see Malcolm throw himself against the decon door with as much force as he could muster. Fortunately for Trip's head ache, it knocked him out. "...Malcolm. I can' figure out how to use this equipment to find a cure and you...are a scientist! Don' they make you take medical courses or biology or somethin' like that?"

"No."

Trip looked at her, crestfallen, until she spoke again. "But I believe I can help you anyways. Have you determined what type of virus it is?"

"Nope," Trip said sheepishly but smiling nonetheless. T'Pol settled herself into her seat better. Drawing her tea to her she began to lay out just what he's going to do.

"Do you have a sample?" Trip nodded. "Use the scanner to make an organic composition profile. Once you've done that..."

(FOUR HOURS LATER)

"This ain't workin'."

"Do not lose hope, Commander. I believe you've told me that?" T'Pol said, tempted to raise her voice, but restraining for the Commander's sake. He obviously had a head ache and refused to take medication for it.

Trip sighed and looked at the monitor. "You're tired. Get some sleep. I'll figure it out."

"No. Have you run the beta sequence?"

Trip hated this stubborn Vulcan. "Yeah...nothin'." Trip brushed his hand down the monitor, showing T'Pol his concern. "Go to sleep."

"No...what about the theta?"

"Quit being stubborn."

"And you're not?" T'Pol countered.

Trip smiled. "It's in my DNA, baby. I can' change that."

T'Pol stilled. "What?"

Trip's smile fell. "I didn' mean anythin' by it, T'Pol...I..."

"No...that's it...It's not changing them just physically. You said the scanner noted atomic changes. It's changing them at a genetic level. Phlox isn't changing at the same rate because his DNA is different."

"Phlox isn't changing at all," Trip noted.

"So maybe there's something in his DNA that isn't in human."

Trip thought. "We'd need a sample."

T'Pol looked at him like he was an idiot. "You're in his work area, where he works every day...and you can't find a sample?"

"Shut up."

T'Pol watched as Trip started to look for a hair or something like that of Phlox's. Behind her, her door chimed. "Hold on, I'll return in a minute."

T'Pol walked to the door and opened it to reveal an impeccably dressed Admiral Forrest. "Admiral?"

The admiral raised an eyebrow at T'Pol's attire...or rather, lack there of. She was still in her bright purple pj's. "We were to have breakfast," he said as a way of greeting.

"Yes. I forgot. I am currently in conference with Commander Tucker. Is it approved by you if I decline breakfast?"

"Fine with me. Mind if I say hello to the Commander?" The Admiral asked, entering her quarters before her reply. "Hello, Commander."

Trip looked into the monitor confused. "Admiral? Hey. What are you...doing...in T'Pol's quarters?"

"We were going to have breakfast but she wishes to conference with you instead. Something I should know, Commander?"

"I think I'll let the cap'n tell you. We're pretty much done here if T'Pol's wants to go to breakfast."

"No, it's quite alright for her to stay. Her first day of work is today and I'm sure she wants to pretty herself up anyways." The admiral turned to T'Pol. "I'll speak with you later to check how it went."

T'Pol nodded and watched the admiral leave. She knew Trip was upset about something and sought to find out about what. "Why are you glaring at me Commander?"

"Where are you, T'Pol?"

"Starfleet."

"On Earth?"

"Yes."

He glared.

She stared back.

"Why are you glaring at me Commander?" She asked again.

"You're on Earth."

"And?"

Trip exploded. "It's not safe there, T'Pol! Why do you think I told the cap'n to make you leave! It's not safe here or there! You just walk right into trouble!"

T'Pol steadied herself. "The captain did not make me leave. I chose. I can see now that I chose right." T'Pol closed the channel and turned to her wardrobe. She dressed very carefully, with only her precise movements revealing her turmoil. Gently lifting the PADDs on her desk to her chest, she left the room and went towards her new job, and the start of her new life.

Trip figured out the cure without her help, not that he needed it. Damn woman.

If that wasn't enough to add to his troubles, he had to deal with an arrogant alien named Tret who wanted to kill everyone on the planet and was going to destroy Enterprise if Trip didn't hand over Malcolm. Trip refused, leading to a stare down between the two ships. Using what little cure he had already made, Trip injected Malcolm as evidence that the cure worked. A little diplomacy and a trade of cure for the captain, Hoshi, and Phlox's lives, though Phlox was never in danger, the aliens had been intrigued by his immunity.

As Trip stared at the bridge, once again full of familiar faces, he missed one face in particular...the one he had pissed off royally hours before. Damn woman.

Yeah...new chapter soon! I promise...You love me...you know you do...

Goshabyn: I'm glad you approve...thank you for reading...

STC: Good point...but if it were a feeling there was no Vulcan word to describe I do think she would try to describe it in the best way she can, even if it is in a non-Vulcan way...but good criticism anyways...I'm trying to stay canon but it's HARD! You watch me...catch me if I'm not...and you'll be my favorite!

Luna: LOL...I still love your name...