ACT FIVE

"Romulans."

Staring at the image on the viewscreen, Trip frowned at T'Pol's identification of the newly arrived ships. Twice the size of the birds of prey, these new vessels were anything but aesthetically pleasing, bearing the unmistakably aggressive lines of ships meant solely for war. Dotted with disruptor cannon ports and torpedo tubes, they bore the stylized bird of prey along their hull like their smaller sister ships, although subtle differences made the image seem more sinister.

"What the hell is that?" Lieutenant Hsiao asked as he stared at the viewscreen; the helmsman was pressing a sleeve torn from his duty uniform to his forehead to staunch the flow of blood from his scalp wound.

"I believe," Trip replied calmly, "that you are lookin' at the Romulan version of the NX-class." It was the only explanation that made sense and, through the bond, Tucker could sense T'Pol's silent agreement. Starfleet had long suspected the existence of a heavier class of Romulan warship than the bird of prey but, until now, no hard evidence had ever been acquired. The fact that these new vessels hadn't been deployed until now made no sense...

"I'm really starting to hate these guys," Hsiao muttered under his breath, unaware that he spoke Tucker's very thoughts in that moment. Had the situation been any less grim, Trip would have smiled.

"I want a full tactical scan of those things," Tucker said with as much authority as he could manage, wincing as another stab of pain shot through his leg. He hoped it wasn't broken. "Find me a weakness, T'Pol." He felt rather than saw her nod of acquiescence even as another wave of concern for his well-being washed over him through their bond.

For a moment, he was strangely reminded of their first meld, conducted in the days after they had buried little Elizabeth. T'Pol's emotional control had been almost nonexistent at the time; not yet fully recovered from the death of her mother, she'd suddenly found herself reeling from the loss of the parent bond that Vulcan mothers experienced with their offspring, a bond that Trip could barely comprehend. At first, he'd been hesitant to meld with her, afraid of what he would discover ... or more accurately, of what he wouldn't discover. The fear that she was with him simply because the bond demanded it had nearly paralyzed him, but the moment their souls – their katras – merged, her agonizing pain and desperate need for his support had swept those fears away and buried them under an avalanche of emotion.

And the emotions that she felt! For the first time, he truly understood why Vulcans had to maintain that rigid self-control at all times. T'Pol's emotions had struck him with hurricane-force strength, shredding the meager barriers that he possessed and forcing him to share. He felt anger that could tear steel, and all of it was focused at the xenophobic monsters who had taken the most precious of experiences – one she had so desperately wanted to share with him firsthand – and twisted it into something horrifying. Her confusion at why the universe had granted them two children, only to steal them both away, became his confusion. The despair that they might never know the joy of being parents made him want to scream until he could not scream any more. Her grief at losing a child that she had barely known yet wanted to cherish for eternity bordered on suicidal and, in that moment, mirrored his own grief.

But the love she felt for him ... it had destroyed him and remade him into something better, rendered him awestruck at its potency, and silenced any doubts that he could possibly conceive about the two of them. He had clung to that emotion, had used it to buttress his waning mental barriers, and together they had clawed their way out of the miasma that had tried to swallow her whole. Things had been different for them after that moment … and at times, Trip found himself grateful to little Elizabeth for the final gift that she had bestowed to them: in death, the child that Terra Prime thought an abomination had brought her genetic parents closer together than anyone had thought possible.

"The Romulans are moving to intercept the remaining ships in the convoy," T'Pol declared, and Trip felt his stomach clench as their present situation reasserted itself. His face grim, he gave her a look.

"Is there anything we can do?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not at this range," came the reply. To everyone but him, she appeared uncaring about the Boomers' fate; but Trip could sense her simmering anger at the unnecessary loss of life. The hiss of the turbolift announced the arrival of PO1 Simons; without a word, the Roughneck corpsman moved toward the unconscious COB.

"How many are left?" Trip asked of the Boomers. He really didn't want to know the answer, didn't want to know how many men and women and children were going to die because he had failed them, but he forced himself to ask.

"There are thirty-three ships that have not yet reached the warp threshold," T'Pol answered and Tucker hid another wince, this one not born of physical pain. His mind blurred with mental calculations: a minimum crew of two per ship with a maximum of twelve resulted in casualties between sixty-six to three hundred and ninety-six. All dead, because he had failed.

"And there's nothin' we can do," he half-stated, half-asked in a soft voice.

"Not at this range," his mate repeated. No one else could hear the sadness in her voice. Trip nodded before glancing toward Eisler. The TAC officer seemed to recognize what he wanted, and spoke.

"One torpedo tube functional," Eisler reported, features grim. "Two phase cannons fully operational. No other offensive capability." The German tactical officer's face appeared carved from rock as he continued. "Shield generators are inoperative and hull plating emitters are functioning at barely fifteen percent."

"So, we've got no offense or defense," Tucker summed up. "Just like last year's Gators," he muttered, retreating into sarcasm to hide the pain. Eisler gave him a flat look, clearly not recognizing the reference, but Trip decided against explaining. Now wasn't the time. "Marie, status of the impulse drive?" Devereux looked up from her board.

"Commander Drahn reports he'll need fifteen minutes minimum," she replied. Tucker almost reminded her that they didn't have fifteen minutes but from the expression on her face, she already knew that. "He's still trying to lock down those coolant and radiation leaks," the COM officer continued.

"The Romulans are engaging," T'Pol abruptly announced. "I am detecting multiple detonations." The urge to close his eyes and pray swept over Trip. Doing so, however, was not an option; soon, the Romulans would turn to Endeavour...

"T'Pol," he asked, "how long will take 'em to reach weapons range once they're done?" She recognized what he was asking at once.

"Approximately three point three six minutes," she replied, and he fought a heavy sigh.

"How close to the warp threshold are we?"

"Ninety-six thousand, two hundred and sixty-six point four eight kilometers," T'Pol answered smoothly. She continued, more for the benefit of the bridge crew than for him. "There is a twenty-seven point nine zero percent chance that the nacelles will self-destruct if Endeavour goes to warp from our current location." Nothing was said of the repercussions that could occur even if the nacelles didn't blow up; she knew that no one was more familiar with the design of the NX-class than Charles Tucker.

"Mister Hsiao," Trip said calmly, "stand by to go to warp."

"Romulans have ceased fire," T'Pol stated moments later. She spent a few seconds consulting her sensor feed. "No other functional human ships remain within the system."

"How many got out?" Tucker asked. He felt T'Pol's sadness merge with his own; she understood why he needed to know.

"Unknown." She paused as she ordered her thoughts. "The destruction of Vigrid Station created significant sensor distortions," T'Pol continued. "I have no way of accurately determining the number of survivors." Trip nodded again, glancing away; even as he did so, the Vulcan looked up from her board. "The Romulans are altering course toward Endeavour."

Tucker frowned before pressing the intra-ship comm button on his command chair.

"All hands, this is the captain." Trip paused, drawing in a steadying breath. He could feel T'Pol's eyes on him, and could sense her concern over his emotional state. "Rig for emergency warp," he continued, consciously concealing the worry he was experiencing. If this didn't work, they'd all die...

"Lieutenant Hsiao," he ordered, his eyes on T'Pol. If he was going to die, he wanted her face to be the last thing he saw. "Take us to warp one." Visibly worried, the young helmsman responded hesitantly, a far cry from his normal ebullient self. A loud whine echoed through Endeavour as the Starfleet ship leaped from a dead stop to warp one; the whine shifted in pitch seconds later, becoming a loud shriek. Alarms screamed, and the engineer in him was already running through the options. Had this been Enterprise, he would be down there where he belonged...

"Massive radiation leak!" Devereux reported, her eyes wide as she studied the damage reports crawling across her screen. "Five sieverts and climbing!"

The ball of ice that had been floating in Trip's stomach turned to lead, and he wanted to curse. It was exactly as he had feared: the sudden leap to warp with no gradual acceleration, combined with the gravitational anomalies, had made things much worse in Engineering. Even now, he could imagine Drahn ordering his team into protective suits, knowing that it was already too late, as lethal doses of radiation spilled out from the unstable warp core. The loss of the impulse drive meant the loss of core containment; powered by the sublight engine, the containment field protected engineering teams from being exposed to levels of radiation that would be nearly instantly lethal. It was a design weakness that hadn't been noticed until well after Enterprise became operational; Michael Rostov had been the first to recognize the problem and had brought it to Anna Hess' attention. Trip had been working on an engine redesign ever since, but he had not yet found a way to get around it.

"Is the leak contained?" he asked more calmly than he actually felt. Once more, he felt T'Pol's emotions skitter across his consciousness. She knew what he had to do, and knew how badly he didn't want to do it, but said nothing, instead offering her silent support. For that, Trip was grateful; he was going to need it. At Devereux's blank look, Trip elaborated. "Check the internal sensors," he ordered. I must be in control, he told himself as she glanced down at her board. Devereux input additional commands, and froze.

"Radiation is spreading from the Engineering deck," she announced and frowned again. "Nearing ten sieverts and still climbing, sir!" With panic in her features, she looked up at him. Tucker nodded.

"Do you still have override control?" He asked calmly. Her nod was accompanied by a slowly dawning look of understanding. "Seal off the engineering deck," he ordered, using his sternest voice.

"Sir!" The horror in Marie's voice and in her eyes nearly broke him, and he suddenly remembered the rumors about her and Drahn. "The engineering team will die!"

"Yes," Trip said softly, his voice carrying across the eerily silent bridge, "they will." He allowed her to see how much this was killing him as he spoke again. "Seal off the engineering deck, Lieutenant." At odds with the expression on his face, the steel in his voice left her no option but to obey.

In the back of his mind, he could feel T'Pol's presence offering him solace; but he held himself back, sending her a sad look instead. Silently, he began reciting names and attaching faces to those who would soon be dead, men and women whom he had hand-picked and, in many cases, trained. Many of them had survived the Expanse and more than a few had been with him since before Enterprise launched.

Drahn. Burke. Gomez. Montoya. Dillard. Ling. Suborov. Almack. The list went on and Trip committed their faces to memory, swearing that he would never forget them.

Because he had killed them.