She didn't have time to explain.
The moment T'Pol had entered the conference room, she had sensed something amiss. It had taken nearly three visual sweeps of the room to notice the discrepancy, to observe the misaligned lamp fixture and the slight discoloration around it that indicated it had been recently removed and then replaced. Almost instantly, the amusement that she had been sharing with Trip regarding the negotiations vanished. Soval reacted as she had hoped he would when she signaled him, clearing the room in seconds, which allowed her to pull her tricorder free and activate it. Trip said nothing as she worked, recognizing her desire to be uninterrupted.
The scans revealed exactly what she suspected. With no sign of her deepening anxiety, she studied the wall light fixture as she returned the tricorder to its belt holster. Behind her, she felt Trip stir, aware of her intense focus on the wall, but not yet cognizant of what she was studying. He drew breath to comment but she spoke first.
"Captain, please step outside." He gave her a long look, clearly straining to read her intentions through the bond, but she revealed nothing as she placidly returned his gaze. At Tucker's side, Lieutenant Commander Eisler glanced in the direction of the light fixture, the slightest of frowns on his face. Incredibly, he tensed and T'Pol realized that he had seen the danger.
Interesting.
"Why?" Trip asked, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes.
"Captain, please. Step outside." Had Eisler not been present, she would have personalized the request and, as her mate shifted anxiously at her side, she considered doing so anyway if it would get him to safety. Their eyes met and she read the question there; he would not leave unless he knew why. "Trip, please." He blinked; she rarely called him that in the presence of anyone else. "It isn't safe here."
"She's right, sir." Eisler had inched toward the fixture, surreptitiously placing himself between it and Tucker. Noting this, she revised her assessment of the new tactical officer upward; he had been nothing but coolly professional toward her since arriving on Endeavour and she had sensed he was uncomfortable around her, but his desire to keep Trip out of harm's way impressed her. "Let us do our job, Captain," the tactical officer said earnestly and, had she been human, T'Pol would have laughed at her mate's expression. Two days earlier, following a command staff briefing, Trip had complained - off the record, of course - to Commodore Archer that Starfleet Command wasn't letting him do his job.
Apparently, Commander Eisler had been listening.
"Fine," Trip groused, visibly annoyed at having his own words used against him. As soon as the captain was through the door, Eisler turned to study the fixture. Without a word, he removed his duty jacket and tossed it onto the conference table. T'Pol raised an eyebrow; concealed underneath the jacket, he wore a web harness to which numerous items were strapped. She counted four blades of various sizes, two slim boxes of undetermined origin, several objects whose purpose completely eluded her, and what appeared to be a hand-sized laser pistol in a curious under-arm holster.
None of it was standard Starfleet issue.
"May I?" Eisler asked, nodding to her tricorder. She passed it to him without a word and observed quietly as he cycled through several different scans. As he cautiously approached the light fixture, it was obvious that he had done this before - several times, if his efficiency was any indication.
"Ma'am," the tactical officer said suddenly. "You should join Captain Tucker outside." He met her eyes and T'Pol gave him the slightest of frowns.
"What tools do you require?" she asked, ignoring his suggestion as he returned the tricorder.
"None." Eisler slid one of the slim boxes free of the web gear and opened it, revealing a small tool kit - a tool kit, T'Pol realized, that was expressly designed for dealing with explosives.
Fascinating.
Within seconds, he had taken down most of the lamp fixture, revealing its inner workings. The explosive itself - a squat, featureless device that bore a striking resemblance to a recording device - was attached to the lamp's power cell, and he studied it with an expression that revealed nothing. Demonstrating a level of proficiency that told her more about his previous MACO career than his actual service record, he removed the device's outer casing and studied its components.
"It's of Andorian manufacture," he commented idly as he reached for the micro-calipers and hand-laser. She passed them to him without comment, accepting the role of assistant without comment or complaint.
"That doesn't make sense," Trip said abruptly, his voice so close to her ear that T'Pol nearly jumped. She gave him a hard stare; he was supposed to be outside, where it was safe. That she had not even heard him re-enter concerned her only slightly less. "Why would the Andorians want to bomb this conference?"
"They wouldn't," T'Pol replied coolly, reigning in her irritation at her mate's presence as she watched Eisler study the detonator's placement with a practiced eye. She could not help but wonder how many Andorian explosives he had disabled before. "But we are meant to think they did."
"Romulans," Trip muttered and she gave him a slight nod, her eyes never leaving Eisler's hands. "That means there's probably an assassin on the station."
"A likely assumption." She made no mention of the probability of spies inside Starfleet, knowing that Trip was already considering it. Eisler leaned back, the detonator now safely removed and in his hands, shaking his head slightly. "Commander?"
"Detonator was misaligned," he said in reply to her implied question. "Whoever placed it didn't know what they were doing." T'Pol considered that for mere heartbeats before arriving at the most logical assessment: the individual who had placed the explosive was likely not aware of its true purpose.
"We need to look into this," her mate muttered softly, his thoughts centered around the danger Commodore Archer might be in.
"Commander T'Pol should conduct that investigation." Soval's sudden voice drifted from the doorway and she gave him an even harder look than the one she had given Trip; he knew better than to be in the conference room until she had given the all-clear. Beside her, hovering slightly too close to be entirely professional, her mate tensed.
It was moments like this that gave T'Pol pause. Trip's concern for her well-being was tangible, clear to anyone who cared to notice, and, though it warmed her that he cared so much, she could not help but wince internally at the same time. Once, many years earlier, then-Captain Archer had all but admitted an attraction to her, an attraction that she had not reciprocated; but rather than telling him so and possibly damaging their growing friendship, she had pointed out how inappropriate such a relationship would be. How ironic, she thought to herself, that she found herself in just such a situation now.
It had been easier when Commander Stiles was aboard. T'Pol had very nearly convinced Trip to officially name Stiles as First Officer and remove her from the chain-of-command due to their relationship when Starfleet promoted the tactical officer to captain and offered him the Challenger. Now with Lieutenant Commander Eisler as the third highest ranking officer aboard Endeavour, there were no official reasons that T'Pol should not be First Officer.
There were only personal ones.
"I am the most qualified," she pointed out softly in response to Soval's suggestion, not needing to remind him of her intelligence background. Already, she was planning her next move: the station had to have recordings of movements to and from the conference room, and studying those would the logical first step, particularly if no useable genetic material could be located near the explosive.
"I know," Trip grudgingly said, his lips turned down at the corners. For a moment, T'Pol thought he would invite himself along, believing that his presence would keep her from harm, despite Commodore Archer's earlier instructions that he be present during the negotiations. Instead, her mate surprised her once more. "Commander Eisler will go with you," Trip declared abruptly. The ex-MACO blinked from where he stood, but that was the only reaction he gave. T'Pol very nearly frowned, however, and let Trip know of her displeasure through their bond. Did he not trust her?
"His presence is not necessary," she pointed out verbally, quite aware of Soval's appraisal of her. It was disconcerting how her old mentor was observing their ... discussion: his expression, as always, revealed nothing, but his eyes danced with poorly contained mirth. T'Pol felt her ears heat.
"Too bad," Trip replied, his expression set, his brow furrowed. "He's going." She very nearly sighed then; he was intractable when he was like this, and it was usually easier to simply accept his over-protectiveness. They would talk later, she decided, and determine how to avoid this in the future. "And I'll expect you to check in every thirty minutes."
"Impossible." Her frown deepened. "An investigation of this sort requires subtlety. Four hours." They locked eyes.
"One. Or I send Reynolds and his Roughnecks after you." Trip crossed his arms as he spoke.
"You are being unreasonable. Three hours." She felt Soval's eyes on her and wondered what he thought of the spectacle they made.
"Two. And that's final." A moment passed before T'Pol nodded. She quickly turned her attention to Eisler but noticed the flash of triumph in her mate's eyes and mentally added another subject to be discussed. It could wait, however.
"Return to Endeavour," she ordered. "Dress appropriately for a covert investigation." The ex-MACO nodded acknowledgement of her order and T'Pol squared her shoulders. "We have work to do."