A/N: Information on Vulcan culture, physiology, and anything else having to do with the planet or the species is thanks to the Vulcan Language Institute, the URL of which I cannot give you for reasons as yet unknown to me (almost completely computer illiterate, unless it involves "point and click"), but you could do a Google search and find yourself there just fine.

Thanks so much for the reviews! You guys are awesome!

Rigil Kent – Don't worry. This story will feature plenty of T/T goodness!

Chapter Two: Wrong Side of the Galaxy

"It's not the plasma flow," Trip said. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and hunkered down underneath the warp drive. He was exhausted, and it wasn't even dinnertime yet. For some reason, everything had decided to go wrong today. "I checked the injectors myself. There's got to be some kind of coolant leak."

"I think you're overlooking the fact that this ship is self-destructing from the inside out, and it's best to leave now while there's still time," said Kamea. She crouched down beside him and handed him the flux couplet. He shot her a dirty glare, which she ignored. "I'm just saying."

Trip grunted in response and crawled underneath the engine, hoping to find the source of the leak he knew was there. Kamea, for once, was no help at all. In fact, she was being downright annoying, and it was beginning to drive Trip up the wall. This was completely out of character; usually, she would be charging around the engine room, searching for the problem, just as he was doing. Now she seemed to be purposely antagonizing him, and he could think of no logical reason for the abrupt change in her behavior. She'd been fine yesterday.

"There's no shame in abandoning," said Kamea, and she slid underneath the warp drive to lie beside him. Nothing in her voice suggested that she was joking. "I doubt anyone would think any less of you for suggesting it."

"It's a coolant leak," Trip said, a little more forcefully than he had intended, but it didn't seem to faze Kamea one bit – unfortunately. "We've just got to find it."

He dug around in the warp drive for several minutes, but he was unable to find the source of the problem. Still, he kept looking. Something was causing the plasma injectors to malfunction, and he was determined to find it if it took him the rest of his life.

"Would you like my opinion?" Kamea asked after a silence.

"No."

Kamea smiled, braced her one good hand on the underside of the drive, and pulled herself out. "It's not a leak. It's a clog."

Trip crawled out and stared up at her. "A clog." It was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard.

She nodded. "Peterson had an accident this morning, and a chunk of the tubing fell into the injector, blocking the plasma flow." She raised an eyebrow. "Of course, I don't believe 'accident' to be the correct term, since Peterson is clearly not qualified for this posting, but I suppose one has to take what one can get, considering the circumstances – "

He cut her off with a wave of his hand; if he didn't, she would ramble on for quite some time. "If you knew there was a clog, why didn't you say something?"

Her other eyebrow joined the first. "I did. Your exact response was, 'Don't be stupid, the injectors are fine.' I don't appreciate being called stupid, you know."

"I know." Trip buried his face in his hands. This was not what he needed right now. All he wanted was a shot of bourbon and a nap, and he knew he wouldn't be getting either any time soon. "This is payback for that crack I made about you and Malcolm the other day, isn't it?"

She gave him a malicious grin. "Did I not tell you, Commander, that what goes around comes around?"

It wasn't fair. All he had done was to make an innocent observation about the amount of time she and Malcolm had been spending together and the obvious change that their relationship had undertaken, and as punishment he had spent the past forty-five minutes searching the entire engine room for a non-existent coolant leak. Kamea made comments about him and T'Pol all the time, and he never retaliated against her – at least, not this way.

He stood up and stormed over to the plasma injectors. Sure enough, there was a piece of metal blocking the tube through which the plasma flowed, thereby causing the injectors to malfunction. He glanced at Kamea over his shoulder. "You have a cruel streak I'm not sure I like."

Kamea wandered over to stand beside him. "If Enterprise had been in any kind of danger, I would have fixed the problem myself. But after the way you've been acting recently, I thought I'd have a little fun first."

Trip swore silently and shut off the injectors. "Vulcans don't have fun."

"Which is why I'm so very pleased I'm half human."

She assisted him in draining the plasma and removing the tubes in order to extricate the piece of machinery that was blocking the plasma flow. He could have done well enough on his own, but she wouldn't have been able to get very far, seeing as how one of her arms was still in a sling. Phlox said she had to keep it immobile for a while; he said she was lucky her arm was still attached to her body at all. It was something Trip didn't like to think about.

While they were screwing the tubes back into place, Kamea asked, "Is it only the injectors that's bothering you?"

He looked at her in shock. Sometimes, he let himself forget that she could pretty much read his mind. "What makes you say that?"

Her amused expression did nothing to help his mood. "Well, your reaction, for one. But you've been in a snit all day, and it's really irritating."

"I'm irritating you?"

"I didn't say that. What I said was, your behavior is really irritating."

Trip turned the injectors back on; they were working perfectly. "Isn't that the same thing?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Is it?"

He opened his mouth to respond but was stopped by Rostov, who raced over to grab him by the shoulder. "Commander Tucker, the number three turbine has just shut down."

Trip groaned and followed Rostov. "Would anything else like to go wrong today?"

"Don't say that," Kamea said, jogging beside him, "or something will."

A small group of Trip's crew had already gathered around the turbine, attempting to fix the problem, but no one had been successful yet. Trip bent down to assess the situation, but his mind was too unfocused at the moment to be of any real use. All he could tell for certain was that the turbine had indeed shut down. Other than that, he was stumped.

"Think it's a valve?" Rostov asked.

Trip sighed and shook his head. "We can't rule out anything at this point."

Kamea coughed. "Mind if I take a crack at it?"

Trip dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. God, what he wouldn't give for some neuro-pressure right now. He certainly could have used it; he wondered if T'Pol would even go for it. And as much as he hated the fact that yet another problem with the engines had popped up, he couldn't help but be grateful to Rostov for his timing. That conversation had been fast approaching a topic Trip didn't particularly care to discuss at the moment. "Whatever floats your boat."

Kamea examined the turbine for several long moments, then reared back and kicked it. The turbine immediately sputtered to life, and everyone turned to stare at Kamea.

"How'd you do that?" Trip asked, after he had put his eyes back in his head. Should he be worried that that was two problems she'd fixed in the span of ten minutes, and he couldn't even focus enough to find what the problems had been? He was pretty convinced that the captain wouldn't replace him – he may have warmed up to Kamea, but he still didn't trust her – but it was a little frightening, that he didn't know Enterprise as well as he thought he did.

She looked at him, her face completely expressionless. "I rule."

He sighed again. "Seriously, Kamea."

She rolled her eyes, obviously sensing his irritation. "Like I told the captain, never underestimate the value of a good kick. Now, are we going to discuss what's really bothering you, or would you like to insult me some more?"

"Honestly?" Trip said, standing. "I think I'd like to insult you some more."

Kamea pursed her lips and looked down at her feet. "Puerile humor notwithstanding, if there is anything that you need to talk about, I'm more than willing to listen."

Trip grunted and turned on his heel, heading for his office at the back of the engine room. What he needed to talk about was what was going on with T'Pol, but he had tried asking Kamea about that before and she wouldn't tell him anything. But months had gone by with him able to sense T'Pol's presence, anticipate her arrival, and feel out her emotions. He tried doing research, but he didn't know what he was supposed to be looking for, so that tactic had stalled rather quickly. Besides, Vulcans were incredibly private, and most information about their culture was unknown. Trip liked to think he knew a bit more about Vulcans than the average human, but he still didn't know much.

It was that though that stopped him in his tracks, causing Kamea, who had been following him, to slam into him. She grumbled something in Hawaiian and walked around him, apparently also headed for his office.

He had contemplated having a relationship with T'Pol dozens of times, and never had he even realized that he knew nothing about her culture. After their encounter with the other Enterprise, Lorian told Trip a lot about his and T'Pol's marriage, including how they'd been married in a traditional Vulcan ceremony. Until his visit to Vulcan to witness T'Pol's wedding to that rat-bastard, Koss – Trip's stomach clenched involuntarily just at the thought – he hadn't even known what a traditional Vulcan ceremony consisted of. He didn't really know anything. That trip to Vulcan, he'd learned a few choice Vulcan phrases and some points of interest planetside, but other than that he really couldn't claim to be an expert.

He walked into his office and found Kamea seated in the chair behind his desk. Her feet were propped up on his desk, and she was holding a PADD at arm's length.

"I've told you before I don't like when you do that," he said.

"Yeah," she said, completely ignoring him. She remained in the chair and didn't even glance up from the PADD. "You have done that. My memory must be going. I bet it's old age."

He rolled his eyes. "T'Pol's older than you are, and her memory is fine."

She looked at him. "It is, isn't it? Oh, and speaking of T'Pol – "

Trip groaned as loudly as humanly possible without damaging his throat. "I should've seen that one coming."

Kamea grinned. "But you didn't." She set down the PADD and got out of his chair to let him sit down, which he did. She sat on the corner of his desk, instead. "So what's up with you two lately, anyway?"

Trip picked up her discarded PADD and scrolled through it. "Nothing," he said, sighing. It was the truth. He and T'Pol had barely been alone together in months, though he couldn't be certain whether that was just unfortunate coincidence or an intentional effort on her part.

Kamea raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

"I wish I knew what was going on," he said, tossing the PADD aside. It clattered across the desk and eventually fell on the floor. Kamea reached for it, and it zoomed into her outstretched hand. "Things between us are so…" He trailed off, gesturing futilely with his hands, searching for the proper term. But he couldn't think of one; he had absolutely no idea how to describe his and T'Pol's bizarre relationship. "I have no idea."

"Think it has anything to do with that message she got from Vulcan the other day?" Kamea asked, once again engrossed with the PADD.

Trip looked up at her in shock. This was the first he'd heard of any message. "What message?"

Kamea froze, her eyes wide. She obviously thought he'd known. She glanced at him. "I was rather hoping you'd know, actually. T'Pol wouldn't tell me anything."

He stared down at his desk, completely numb. A message from Vulcan could only mean one thing: Koss. He'd learned about pon'farr from Kov and knew that if Koss were to suddenly experience symptoms, T'Pol would be expected to return home to fulfill her…spousal obligation. The thought made Trip physically ill.

"I'm sure that's not it," Kamea said, playing with her fingers. "If it were pon'farr, T'Pol would be experiencing symptoms as well. Also, she would have requested immediate transport to Vulcan. If the pon'farr goes unresolved, eventually the person in question succumbs to the plak-tau."

Trip gripped the edge of the desk so hard that his knuckles turned white. He knew she had probably read his expression and not his mind, but he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that she knew exactly what he was thinking. The more time he spent with her, the more creeped out he got. If he didn't know for a fact that she was spending every night in Malcolm's room, he would've thought she just needed to get laid. "I hate it when you do that, too."

"Pon'farr is really a fascinating concept, when you think about it," said Kamea, continuing as though Trip hadn't even spoken – something else she did an awful lot that he didn't like. "Do you know that all native Vulcan life is synchronized to the same seven-year cycle? It has something to do with solar activity, or something. And it would seem that I was incorrect in my original statement, when I said that a Vulcan male is only fertile during pon'farr. I've been doing some reading, and apparently all Vulcan animal life can, for lack of a less clinical term, breed at any time during the year. Of course, I wasn't about to ask my parents for information about their sex life, because witnessing that neuro-pressure thing satisfied my curiosity quite nicely…"

He banged his head off the desk repeatedly, each "thud" growing more pronounced as Kamea rambled on. This was information he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing. Still… On the off-chance Koss ever died in some kind of freak accident and he and T'Pol ever had a ghost of a chance of living happily ever after, it might be useful to know some off the stuff that Kamea was spouting off.

"Any reason you feel like being a walking encyclopedia today?" he asked in a very clipped voice.

Kamea didn't even flinch. Whatever Malcolm was doing to her in his quarters every night, she was much calmer than before. "I thought the knowledge might appease your worry that T'Pol will one day leave the ship." She ran her fingers through her hair. "From what I understand – "

"Look, I'm really not anxious to hear about your parents' sex life, okay?"

Kamea narrowed her eyes at him. "Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Trip sighed and rested his forehead on the edge of the desk. "Try the wrong side of the galaxy."

Kamea slid off the desk, grabbed the collar of his uniform, and yanked his head back. "You just missed a perfectly good opportunity to make some offensive and wholly unfounded remark about Malcolm and myself. You are obviously unwell, and I should take you to sickbay as soon as possible."

Trip tried to summon up the energy to be angry, but he couldn't quite manage, because at the moment his mind was clouding over with a sudden surge of jealousy that could only mean one thing.

"Am I interrupting?" T'Pol asked from the doorway.

Some small part of Trip's fuzzy, frazzled brain realized that this probably didn't look very good from where T'Pol was standing, but he really didn't care at the moment. "If I said 'yes', would it make a difference?"

"I believe that's my cue to leave," said Kamea. She rested the wrist of her good arm against the small of her back and skittered out of his office, acknowledging T'Pol with a nod as she passed her.

Several minutes of stony silence followed Kamea's abrupt departure, but finally T'Pol said, "Perhaps it is none of my business – "

"It's not," Trip said, with as much malice as he could muster. She had some nerve, parading into his office unannounced and making assumptions based on one second taken completely out of context. She should know by now that he was not interested in Kamea in any kind of romantic sense; in fact, he was exercising considerable restraint not to inflict physical harm upon her, though he knew she could take him easily.

He could tell T'Pol was hurt by his icy tone, but it was just one of the many things about which he did not care. She took a deep breath before speaking. "I wish to speak with you."

Trip gestured at his empty office with both hands. "Speak away, darling."

He sensed she was irritated, but she wasn't about to let it show. She hated when he called her that. "I have been recalled."

Trip could only stare at her. "Recalled?"

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, something Trip had never seen her do, so he knew she must have been upset. "I received the message several days ago, but I wanted to validate its authenticity. There appears to be some sort of political upheaval on Vulcan. The High Command has requested my presence."

Trip stood up so violently that his chair was thrown backwards. "You're Starfleet now. You don't answer to the High Command."

T'Pol's eyes were shining, and only then did Trip realize she was very close to crying. That stopped him; T'Pol had never cried before, never even been close to it. Not in his presence, at least. "I cannot turn my back on my people, Commander." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I intend to tell the captain as soon as I reach the bridge, but I… I wanted to tell you first."

Not good. Not good. Definitely not good. "How long will you be gone?"

T'Pol shook her head. "I don't know. There is a possibility that I will have to remain there permanently."

His mouth was dry, his tongue thick and heavy, and his head was spinning. He'd just known, when he woke up this morning, that this day was going to suck to high hell. "Permanently?"

She nodded slowly. "Once I have returned to Vulcan, it is highly probable that Koss will ask me to stay."

Trip felt fire flare in his belly. "He can't do that."

She looked at him. "It is a reasonable request. I am his wife."

"In name only," Trip said, practically spitting out the words.

T'Pol's eyes hardened. "It is the Vulcan way. I entered into this marriage knowing what the consequences would be. It was not a decision made lightly, and I do not intend to go back on my word." She took a deep breath and crossed her arms. "If Koss asks me to remain, I will. It is what I have to do."

Trip felt his legs give out from under him. He tried to collapse into his chair, but he'd forgotten that he knocked it away, so he fell to the floor. T'Pol hurried over to see if he was okay, but he jerked away from her outstretched hand. "So that's it, then."

She held his gaze for a moment, then nodded. "Yes."

His eyes stung with tears, but he wasn't about to cry in front of T'Pol. He cleared his throat and stood, shuffling through the papers on his desk as though this little piece of information didn't bother him in the slightest, when he really felt like his heart had just been ripped out of his chest and shown to him. "Well, if that's it," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as fragile as he felt, "I've got a lot of work to do."

T'Pol recoiled as if struck, but her expression remained impassive. She nodded curtly. "Of course. I apologize for taking up so much of your time, Commander. I must report to the bridge."

Trip barely managed to wait thirty seconds after she had left before collapsing against the wall and finally giving into the urge to cry.

T'Pol went directly to the bridge, though her chest had constricted to the point where she feared it might cut off her air supply. Her eyes burned with tears she was too Vulcan to shed, but the struggle to remain calm was more than she could manage. This…overwhelming sense of grief was not unknown to her, but she hadn't felt it quite as strongly as she was feeling it now. Even during her wedding, when she had knelt there with Koss and thought about how she could not be with Trip, she had not felt this lost. Deep in her brain had always been the knowledge that, though she would be wed to Koss, she would be on Enterprise with Trip. Now she faced the very real possibility that she would never see Trip again. It, quite simply, hurt.

To the rest of the ship, she was the picture of Vulcan stoicism. Her face was a mask, her expressions unreadable, but as she made her way to the turbo lift, she felt like she was crumbling with every step she took. How did humans deal with such emotions? How could they live every day with this kind of power just waiting to be released? It was a time bomb, threatening to explode and engulf her completely.

She had known that telling Trip would be difficult, but she could never have anticipated how unbearable it would be. Perhaps without the bond it would have been easier. T'Pol had been able to feel every emotion coursing through Trip's body during their entire exchange – she could still feel them now – and his emotions amplified her own. Perhaps it was because they were bonded that the pain was so intense. She did not think she would be able to live with this kind of pain on a daily basis. When she returned to Vulcan, in the event that Koss did ask her to stay, she would have to look into having the bond severed.

It was Koss, in fact, who had contacted her several days ago – not the High Command, though she was expecting a communiqué from them any day now. Koss had informed her, very briefly, of the political problems Vulcan was experiencing, claiming that civil war was imminent. He mentioned that she should expect a message from the High Command, asking her to return and assist. He also told her that her mother had disappeared; he wasn't certain if she had left of her own free will or if someone had abducted her, but he had gone to visit her one afternoon and found her office at the academy empty. The house was empty as well. No one had seen T'Les in days.

Solen had warned her about this, all those months ago, on the voyage to Vulcan with Trip. He told her about the upheaval in their traditions, about the political unrest that had been rumored. She hadn't believed him, assumed he was just looking for an excuse to see her. Now she wished she had listened to him.

But she had been to Vulcan. The only indication that there was any kind of upheaval was her mother's dismissal from her position at the academy, which had been rectified by T'Pol's marriage to Koss. It was the only reason she had consented to marry him, and if her sham of a marriage were in vain, she would have wasted months bound to him when she could have been with Trip. The idea was too unpleasant to dwell on.

By the time she arrived on the bridge, she had managed to control the flood of emotions that threatened to drown her. Trip, she knew, was still struggling to deal with them. But she also knew that he would. He was used to it.

Kamea, at Commander Tucker's post, looked up the second T'Pol stepped off the turbo lift. T'Pol had had great difficulty dodging the younger girl over the past several days; she seemed very intent on discovering the subject of Koss's message. For the most part, T'Pol had managed to avoid her, but the look on Kamea's face suggested that she knew something was amiss, and it would only be a matter of time before she found out what it was. She was good at that.

"Kamea," Captain Archer said, and the girl turned to look at him, "are you sure those coordinates are accurate?"

Kamea raised an eyebrow. T'Pol knew that she had been assisting Travis and the captain in updating the star charts. The captain had asked T'Pol to help, but that information was classified. Kamea, on the other hand, seemed to have no problem revealing classified information, so naturally Archer had gone to her. "Positive, Captain. I double-checked them myself."

"So no chance of us flying straight into a black hole or something?" Archer asked, grinning. He was certainly much more jovial of late, back to the old Archer from the early days of the mission. It was comforting, in a way.

"Black hole?" Kamea asked. "No. Neutron star would be my bet."

Archer, Hoshi, Travis, and Malcolm turned as one to stare at Kamea, who smiled sheepishly. "Okay," she said, suddenly becoming highly engrossed in the console before her. "Never a good time for that joke, apparently."

"You might want to consider one that doesn't involve our grisly demise," said Malcolm. He threw Kamea a wink, and she blushed and looked away. But T'Pol could see the corners of her mouth tug upwards in the trace hint of a smile.

T'Pol watched their interaction, wondering if she and Trip could ever act that way. They'd never acted that way before, but there was nothing to say they couldn't, if they wanted to. And she did want to. She just couldn't. In that way, she was envious of Lieutenant Reed and Kamea – the only thing preventing them from entering into a relationship was their intimacy issues. The hurdles in their path were self-imposed and not something quite so legally and morally binding as a marriage.

But then, T'Pol had placed that hurdle in her path by choosing to wed Koss. Although, really, what other choice had she had?

The bridge crew, led by Malcolm, began to make jokes at Kamea's expense. T'Pol was half tempted to tell them to stop, because she knew what it was like to be the butt of jokes and it was not a pleasant feeling. Kamea, however, did not seem upset in the slightest. She laughed good-naturedly with the rest of them; her laugh was so effortless, so genuine. It was another thing T'Pol envied about her cousin.

"Captain?" Hoshi said, after the laughter had died down somewhat. "We're receiving a message." She turned to the captain. Her face was as solemn as T'Pol had ever seen it, and she knew immediately that this was the message for which she had been waiting. "It's Admiral Forrest."

If Archer was surprised, he didn't show it. "Onscreen, Hoshi," he said, still chuckling from some joke of Travis's.

Admiral Forrest appeared on the view screen. He looked tired and haggard; T'Pol suspected he was putting in a good many late nights because of the turmoil on Vulcan. No doubt Ambassador Soval was keeping him busy. "Jonathan," the admiral said, acknowledging the captain with a nod of his head. "Has Ambassador Soval been in contact with you?"

Archer shook his head, and the amused look on his face had dissolved into one of confusion. "No, Admiral. Soval hasn't sent us anything. Why?"

Forrest sighed and scrubbed one hand over his face. "I suppose he's left it up to me to break the news to you, then. I'm sorry, Jon, but I've got to order that you return T'Pol to Vulcan as soon as possible."

T'Pol stiffened automatically. Though she had already known this was coming, it was still unnerving to hear it coming from Admiral Forrest. Everyone on the bridge looked at her, though not all at the same time. They didn't attempt to be subtle about looking; Kamea, in fact, stared at T'Pol with one eyebrow raised. T'Pol forced herself to keep her eyes trained on Admiral Forrest and decided to ignore the heat tingling the tips of her ears, which meant that she was blushing.

Archer turned back to the admiral. "What the hell for?"

Forrest shook his head sadly. "Something's seriously wrong on Vulcan, Jon." He didn't even reprimand the captain for his foul language. "The High Command has recalled all of its personnel. All Vulcans are to report immediately. It's bad, Jon."

The captain's eyes darted around the bridge wildly. "How bad?"

Admiral Forrest rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. "The Vulcans aren't telling me anything – just that T'Pol needs to return to Vulcan a.s.a.p." He exhaled through pursed lips and leaned forward, resting on his elbows. "I fought for her, Jon, I really did. But they can't make any exceptions."

T'Pol hoped that Archer would argue with the admiral, but she knew that he wouldn't. It was a foolish, illogical hope. But she did not want to return to Vulcan, knowing that she would probably be forced to remain there indefinitely.

Archer sighed heavily and dropped into his chair. "Travis," he said, lolling his head back and closing his eyes, "set course for Vulcan. Maximum warp."

"Yes, sir," said Travis, and he began to do just that.

"I am sorry about this, Jon," Forrest said, and he did sound sincere.

Archer shook his head. "It's not your fault, Admiral. You tell Soval that we'll have T'Pol there in three days."

Forrest nodded. "Goodbye, Jon."

Once the admiral had disappeared from the screen, and all that could be seen were the stars streaking silently by, a heavy silence fell over the bridge. T'Pol could feel the others' eyes on her, but she refused to look up from her console. If she made eye contact with any of them, she would be forced to answer questions for which she did not have answers. So she ignored them.

After several minutes of silence, Kamea cleared her throat. "On the plus side," she said, "he didn't notice me."