Disclaimer: Enterprise and its characters are property of CBS/Paramount.

Author's note: Thank you kind readers for reading and reviewing my story. Many thanks as always for my patient beta Dinah.

Recap of the story: When a mission goes wrong, Trip is captured and sent to work in mines. He and his friends are sentenced to death, but rescued by a group led by Kirak. He is T'Pol's long lost father. T'Pol's pregnant with a girl, that Trip and T'Pol have named T'Lessa. As Trip's friends on Earth find out Trip is alive, a mission team is assembled. Travelling with the ship called the Lincoln they're searching for Trip.

Part one

The Lincoln – Borderland, close to the Dosa system

Pink - That night, he dreamt about Erika.

In his dream he saw her face as she had looked one of the last times he had spoken to her. She had a glass in her hand, filled with the pink grapefruit juice she loved so much. There was a glint of amusement in her beautiful brown eyes as she raised the glass and clinked it with his Bourbon-filled one. "To the newly formed Coalition," she smiled. "May this alliance be the beginning of a new era."

He smiled back at her and they looked at each other in silence, simply enjoying being together.

The moment was broken when Erika said. "I heard from Admiral Forrest that Command has this idea of making you the leader of the Coalition, even President of Earth."

It was not the first time he heard something like that. "Daniels always said I will play an important role in history."

Erika frowned. "You know my opinion of future guy Daniels. I agree that the Coalition can become important for Earth's history. But do you see yourself talking all day with Vulcan diplomats? Not to mention governing an entire planet. You would feel miserable."

"You're right," he replied. There were lights dancing in her eyes. "Of course, I am," Erika said.

He leaned forward and cupped her lovely head between his hands. As he kissed her, the whole world around them started to spin, like a whirlwind. Spinning circles turned into bright pink, red, purple flashes of lights, burning his eyes. He heard a wave of screams, before his eyes he saw a Starfleet vessel crashing into a Romulan bird of prey, the sound of the blast piercing through his mind.

Then the world stopped. The sounds were gone, there was only silence. Once again, he held Erika's face in his hands, her warm brown eyes searching his. A second later, the image of Erika shattered into a thousand pieces. His open hands were empty, she was gone and he was falling into an abyss of darkness, falling and falling…

Jonathan Archer gasped. Struggling for breath, he moved upwards. His heart was still pounding as he stared into the emptiness of his room. Tears welled up in his eyes. He pushed them down.

The dream had been about Erika's death at the beginning of the war. They were fighting the Romulans and losing steadily. Suddenly, Columbia had rushed into the scene, crashing into a bird of prey, rescuing three Starfleet vessels, including Enterprise. The whole crew of Columbia had died, including her brave captain.

The pain of Erika's death had been more than he could bare. With all the strength he could muster, he had pulled himself together. Trip, Hoshi, Phlox, they all had offered to help.

He had told them he was all right, he could handle it. But he had no time to mourn. It was war and Earth was fighting for its existence. He had to do his duty.

Within a day, he was back in the war: fighting the Romulans which he hated from the depths of his soul.

But now, the war was over. Starfleet Command had told him to stay close to Earth. As he waited for his next assignment, his days had been filled with nothing. He couldn't stand the silence around him, being confronted with the fact that he had lost the love of his life. So many people had died in the ruthless war.

He needed a new goal in his life. When Command had asked him to become their candidate for the Earth president – gaining more influence for Starfleet in process - this time he hadn't said no.

Command had told him he was the natural candidate: the first Starfleet captain, the hero of the Xindi and Romulan Wars. The founding father of the Coalition and newly formed Federation.

It seemed the opportunity of a lifetime. Hadn't Daniels said he would play an important role in Earth's history? His whole election team, including his campaign manager Fortaleza, they were all excited about his chances. As the weeks went by, Jon realized he wasn't.

His heart wasn't really into it. The words of Erika, said so many years ago, came back to him. He missed her love, the way she could put him straight, like no one else could. He needed Erika now more than ever, but she was gone.

Late at night, he thought more and more of taking a break. A break from the election circus, the Starfleet spin doctors, the increasing pressure from Command.

When T'Pol had asked him to rescue Trip, he hadn't hesitated. Trip was one of his oldest friends. He needed and wanted to help him, as his friend and captain. And the election was months away.

And the fact that his late father was also involved in the so called Tikari's files, was even more reason for him to join this mission. Fortaleza had been furious when he told her he was going on a classified Starfleet mission. "It's only for a few weeks," he had told her, knowing deep in his heart it was a lie.

But none of it mattered, when he stepped into this vessel. The ship was more advanced than Enterprise, and much smaller, but he felt like he was coming home. He almost expected to see Porthos in his quarters, lying on his bench, barking happily, like in the old days. He loved being a Starfleet captain again. His headaches, which had plagued him for months, had vanished like the wind.

His crew consisted of Reed, Cole, Rostov, Phlox and Hoshi Sato. Hoshi had surprised him by calling him a day before they left and volunteering for this mission. Since Enterprise had been decommissioned and the crew spread around various Starfleet projects, he hadn't seen her. She had changed her hairstyle; she wore it short now. "You need a good communication officer, Captain," Hoshi had said. Her voice had sounded off, the result of a common cold, Hoshi had told him.

He remembered that Trip had wanted Hoshi to look at the data of Tikari. She was the best in her field and during the war, a reliable officer. And he always liked having her around.

But his days on the Lincoln were almost over. Using the space station near the Vertali wormhole Command had been able to send a message. They have given Jon a clear order to return to Earth, to show the world he was the candidate in the presidential campaign.

Along with the order, there was a message from T'Pol. She had told him Trip was in a safe place with friends. It had convinced him that he was doing the right thing to return to Earth. They were now heading to the rendezvous point to meet another Starfleet vessel that would bring him back to Earth. Lieutenant Reed would take command of the Lincoln and the rescue mission.

Meanwhile, Jon spent his days investigating Trip's failed mission. They had found his team leader Dubois, floating in space in a shuttle pod, more dead than alive. At first, Jon hadn't recognized the man he had only met briefly during the mission briefing. Dubois's face and body had been swollen and covered in purple, almost black bruises and cuts. Dubois had gained consciousness yesterday and thanks to doctor Phlox amazing work, he started to look more and more like the man Jon had met before this whole mess began.

Jon walked to the bridge to meet with Reed and Hoshi. She had completed her translation of the Orion data found in the shuttle pod. It had taken her longer than he was used to. "According to the Orion records, Dubois didn't tell them much," she reported in a hoarse voice, clearly not fully recovered from her cold. "He made up a name, a ship and a story that he was a merchant. He called himself Morino, working on a ship called Soste tria dentra. The Orions didn't believe him."

The stern look on Malcolm's face only deepened during Hoshi's report. "Captain," Malcolm told him. "I know Dubois is hardly in any condition to be questioned, but the data doesn't offer us much information. Dubois is our best shot at finding out where Commander Tucker is."

"You're right, Lieutenant," he answered and they headed to sickbay.

Part two

The Lincoln – sickbay

Pink – The first thing Jon saw was Dubois, shivering under a thick beige blanket, pulled up to his neck. His eyes were closed. One arm was above the blanket with an IV-line attached to it. Soft pink fluid – a special sedative made by Phlox in combination with nutrition - dripped into Dubois's body.

Amanda Cole was sitting behind a desk, studying Dubois's medical data. She had volunteered to help Phlox. She gave him a huge smile, lights dancing in her eyes. It took him a second to realize the smile wasn't aimed at him, but at his security officer who whole demeanor stiffened at her gesture. Reed trusted her implicitly, which was high praise for him, but he never even cracked a smile.

The medical data Phlox had collected, gave evidence of the extreme torture Dubois had endured. The Orions had broken Dubois's fingers, pulled finger nails out and smashed his right underarm. Besides inflicting cuts, bruises and burn marks on his shaven head, face and body, several teeth had been pulled out. According to Phlox's report Dubois hadn't eaten in days before his rescue, to which his hollow cheeks were a testament. Dubois had refused normal painkillers. He claimed they made him groggy. Luckily Phlox had found an alternative. He also had asked Phlox to test him if there was any evidence of telepathic manipulations in his brain. Phlox had found none.

Jon had read the file on Dubois. He had a degree in engineering and had studied in Brazil, Japan and Greece. He had served on the Atlanta during the war, together with Major Peterson, a longtime friend of his. He had lost his wife at the beginning of the war due to nuclear radiation poisoning from the Romulan nukes. After his wife's passing, Dubois had made the switch to a special Starfleet division. Jon suspected Dubois and Peterson were working for Section 31. He had asked Malcolm about it, who had given him an evasive answer.

"How are you?" he asked Dubois, lowering his voice. "Are you able to answer questions?"

"Yes, I can." Dubois's voice was clear, but colored by his guttural accent. His now open eyes were dark with pain.

"Can you remember anyone being present during your time with the Orions," Reed asked.

"One of my captors was named Fetor Velen. He is responsible for the fact that I have fewer teeth," Dubois added coolly. "Perhaps Fetor is a familiar name on Velen, but I do remember a Fetor on Velen who led a pro-Romulan group, the Haren. Perhaps he's the same man."

Behind her desk, Amanda looked up sharpy.

"I know him," Reed said grimly and he turned to Amanda. "I saw a picture of him, drawn by you."

"Fetor and his group were the target of my last mission," Amanda said, her voice hoarse. She took a piece of paper and with a few lines she drew a face. She showed her drawing to Dubois.

Dubois squeezed his eyes. "It could be him. This Fetor also has a huge scar on his left cheek. There were others, all Orions, but I don't remember their names. Fetor told the crew to work faster because Delon wanted more answers. Delon must be the man in charge."

"We know Fetor is working for the Romulans. This is very useful," Reed said. "We have discovered that more Romulans are involved. Do you remember Tenson? She is back on Earth."

"The Romulan spy? I thought she was dead," Dubois said. "If she survived the explosion of her ship and everybody thought she was gone, why did she return to Earth?"

"We still don't have an answer to that question," Reed replied. He continued "I wondered how you're able to understand the names of your captures and what they said."

"I did a crash course in basic Orion for a previous mission," Dubois explained. "Hoshi Sato has written a great book about the Orion language."

"Is Morino your Starfleet code name. And what does Soste tria dentra mean?"

A vague smile started to form on Dubois's face, making him look much younger. "Arthur . . . Major Peterson and I agreed on the code name Morino. My great-great grandfather was French. Bois in French means forest, du means from. Literally my name means "of the forest". In Japanese a forest is called mori, and "no" is Japanese for "of". My wife was Japanese. It was a joke between us."

Hurt washed over his face and the old mask of pain was again in place. Duobis swallowed and continued "Soste tria dentra is Greek, I lived in Greece for two years. It means "rescue three threes." Kanji is one of three Japanese ways of writing. The word "forest" in Kanji are three little trees. You can say Soste tria dentra means Rescue Dubois."

"It was a message for Starfleet," Malcolm understood. "An SOS in a linguistic puzzle."

"My hope was that Starfleet's linguistic division would figure it out if they read the Orion data." He paused and said "I think it's important to tell you both about the mission. Remember the battle of Cheron?"

Jon remembered that final battle vividly. The alliance of Tellerite, Andorian, Vulcan and Human forces brought a humiliating defeat to the Romulans in that battle. In the days after, he could hardly believe they had crushed their enemy. Was it already a year ago that the war was finally over? It felt like yesterday.

Dubois took a deep breath, obviously to control the pain he was in, and continued, "After that battle, we agreed on a neutral area of space between the Romulan and Coalition or Federation territory. At the border of Coalition territory and this so-called neutral zone, lies a former Romulan planet, Tikari. A wormhole is in the proximity. We have a Starfleet base located there. It was there where the incriminating data about Shran, Gel, T'Pol and your father, Captain Archer, was found."

"Your father, Captain?" Lieutenant Reed looked at him with a frown on his face.

"Later, Lieutenant," Jon said, cutting Reed off. "Continue, Lieutenant Dubois."

"Our division assumed that all the data was part of a complex plan to smear the names of all the founding fathers of the Coalition. Rumors were already circulating in the media on Earth. It had an impact on the process of Earth's presidential election. If more of these stories had come out, especially shortly before the election, Filipa Namara, the most outspoken anti-Federation candidate, would win. If you repeat lies long enough, they become true. The only thing you can do is find hard evidence that refutes those lies. The goal of our mission was to reexamine the original data and prove they're falsifications."

Dubois started to cough, which ended in a coughing fit. Pearls of sweats dripped of his forehead. Phlox, who had been hovering over the patient, administrated a hypospray. Dubois was able to speak again.

"Starfleet Command believed the Romulans wanted to create discord between the members of the newly formed Federation. Divided we would fall, easy targets for the Romulans," he emphasized.

He took another deep breath. "I'd like to return to Tikari. I want to finish what we started, and to find evidence of the mole working in Starfleet. Our ship was so easily detected, I strongly believe there is one or more traitors working in Starfleet."

Malcolm nodded. "It's of the upmost importance to finish your mission. But we also have to find Commander Tucker. That's why we're here."

Dubois looked paler by the minute. His voice cracked as he said, "You told me Commander Tucker was liberated by the Kirakites and no longer imprisoned. The logical assumption is that Tucker would try to return to Coalition space. Tikari is the closest Coalition planet. Tucker knows this."

"Can we trust these Kirakites?" Malcolm asked Dubois, sounding skeptical.

"We don't know much about them. What I understand from my time in this region of space, is that the Kirakites are a small group within Romulan society. They want every planet under Romulan rule to govern itself and stop the wars. The Kirakites are seen as an enemy by the Romulans. I think they can be a friend for the Federation and a help in our continuing battle against the Romulans."

"They would be a useful source of information for Starfleet. Even after four years of war, we hardly know anything about the Romulans," Malcolm remarked, "But the Kirakites are a small group. I don't think they're going to be an influential factor."

Dubois shook his head. "We have seen with the Battle of Cheron and throughout history, more power doesn't always mean victory. Dedication, conviction, the minds of the people, that makes the difference."

"Captain," Phlox interrupted the conversation, wearing a worried frown. "Lieutenant Dubois needs to rest." He gave Jon a stern look.

Jon got the message. "We will return, Lieutenant. But it's safe to say, that after the rendezvous, Lieutenant Reed will take the ship to Tikari and find Trip. If you receive a clean bill of health from Doctor Phlox, Lieutenant Dubois, you may join him."

Phlox protested, but his voice was lost in the resounding, "Yes, sir," from Reed and Dubois, who answered simultaneously. By the look on his face, Malcolm was already planning a course and safety measures for the journey ahead.

Part three

Unknown planet, Kirakite hide out, mess hall

Pink – "You're my favorite pinkskin, Rokel," Shrov grabbed Trip by his shoulders forcefully and smiled widely. His antennae wobbled softly on his head, like they were dancing. To Trip's relief Skrov let go and pointed at the meal in front of him. "This is real food."

"For once I agree with you, Skrov," Gel grumbled, sitting across from him. "For a Terran, Rokel can be useful." He started to spoon his food with considerable haste. It was like he expected that the bowl in front of him would be taken from him at any minute.

They were sitting in the mess hall, enjoying their meal. Trip had asked the Kirakites to provide food and drinks. Mita and V'Ran had made a stew, which according to Skrov, was the best food he'd had in years. Trip agreed. The spicy stew was warm and tasteful, miles better than the watery soup they got in the mines.

In the Kirakite hideout everybody called him Rokel. Mita had enthusiastically tried to call him Trip, but her pronunciation of his name – T'Rip with the emphasis on Rip – had made him decide against it. Rokel was a much easier name and it contained a ray of hope that he could use under these circumstances. He was safe, but still a long way from home.

"Many Kirakites have worked and lived in the same mines as we, Rokel, including your father-in-law. No wonder they love good food," Skrov said, before gulping down another sip of his ale and taking a bite from the stew in his bowl. He muttered something in Andorian with a look of delight on his face.

"Who told you about Kirak?" Trip asked. In the past days he had been talking to his father-in-law. He had asked him what planet they're staying on. He wanted to return to Coalition space, return to his wife and friends. But every time Trip had hit a wall of silence.

"I hacked into their systems," Skrov said casually, "I am the best hacker on Andoria and beyond."

"You're a blue skinned idiot," Gel remarked. "Why would you hack their systems, if you can ask them? These Kirakites are so naïve, they'd gladly tell you everything."

Skrov muttered something about wanting to do his own research, but it didn't impress Gel. "Remember the trouble you got yourself into when you hacked into the Valkarian military main frame. You got caught and was shipped off to the dilithium mines."

Skrov growled. "That was only one mistake. I have hacked into several Starfleet, Orion, Vulcan and Tellerite vessels."

"We're guests of the Kirakites and treated well, Skrov," Mita remarked. Trip agreed with her. He didn't like the fact that Skrov had been hacking in the Kirakites systems.

All eyes went to the only female at the table. She looked pale and she was massaging her back with both hands. V'Ran stood up silently from his place at the table and came back with two small pillows, giving them to Mita. Their hands touched briefly. V'Ran immediately pulled his hand away. Mita tugged the pillows behind her and rested against the back of the chair, exposing her bulging belly.

Mita's pregnancy reminded Trip every day of what he missed: being with his wife and the child in her artificial womb.

As the chatter of his friends continued, his mind wondered off to T'Pol. They had met in their white space several times, but it was no substitute for the real thing. Normally he would feel T'Pol as a gentle presence in the back of his mind. Now they could only meet during meditation in the white space, which worked most of the times. They had agreed to meditate every eight hours simultaneously to create the best opportunity.

Two hours ago, Trip had been right on time to meet her. He had meditated for more than an hour, but she wasn't there. A vague unrest had settled in. He told himself not to worry. T'Pol was perfectly safe at the hospital and so was the baby.

After finishing the meal, he counted the hours for his next appointment with T'Pol. He took a candle and found himself a quiet place to be alone.

He focused on the flickering flame before him, started his breathing exercise and then… nothing. The unrest he had felt before, rekindled and grew by the minute. He opened his eyes and stared into the flame. The minutes ticked by. And suddenly T'Pol was there. She was standing before him in their white space. Unlike the other times she wore a dress over what seemed to be the artificial womb.

"Trip," she said, her face lit up as she saw him, before becoming solemn.

There was something in the way she stepped forward to meet him. When she grabbed his hand and held on tight, he knew something was wrong.

Unlike the real world he couldn't feel the warmth of her hand in his. But what he felt were her emotions, loud and clear. It was like he was washed away in a tidal wave of fear, rage, anger, sadness and pain.

These intense emotions reminded him of that time that he and T'Pol had grieved for their daughter Elizabeth. He could almost see himself sitting in her cabin, holding hands. He remembered how the room smelled of the sweetness of candles and melted wax. How T'Pol was dressed in her father's robe and he was in his Starfleet uniform, one arm in a sling. T'Pol's pain and grief were almost overwhelming, while he struggled with his own.

"What's wrong? Is it the baby?" he said, his voice sounded hollow in his own ears.

"The baby is fine, for now. We're not in the hospital anymore." Her voice was calm, in contrast to the emotions he had just felt.

"What happened? Tell me, T'Pol," he urged.

"This morning I got my medication from the nurse. I felt sick and must have lost consciousness. The next thing I remember was being in a shuttle. When I woke up again, I was held hostages by two non-Human kidnappers. One of them was Tenson. The other was a male, with short gray hair and broad eyebrows. They ordered me to contact you through the bond and get a message to my father. Father must contact a man called Delon, tell him of his location and surrender himself to Romulan authorities."

He had a hard time processing what she said. "They drugged and kidnapped you out of a secure Starfleet medical facility with no one noticing? Did they threaten you?"

"That's not important, Trip," T'Pol said firmly, "I am fine."

"You're not," he stressed. T'Pol was afraid, but not for herself. He went cold inside. "They threatened to harm the artificial womb."

"To cut it open and let her suffocate." T'Pol looked down, pinching his hand. He could feel her emotions spinning out of control. He felt a rage building up inside. Why did he ever go on this mission so far away from her? Now he wasn't able to protect T'Pol and his child from these monsters. Nothing mattered as long as they're safe.

With great difficulty, he pushed his fury down. One thing he had learned about the bond was that it amplified both of their emotions – negative and positive – even spiraling the negative ones out of control. T'Pol need not be burdened by his own feelings.

T'Pol let go of his hand and caressed his face with two extended fingers. "Thank you for controlling your anger," she said.

"For now," he said grimly, "I am going to make them pay."

T'Pol took a deep breath and settled herself on the floor, or at least what their mind perceived as the ground. He did the same. "I will have to find means to escape this place. And you have to contact my father. He will help us," T'Pol said. "There is not much time."

"How long do we have?" he asked his wife. "Before you and the baby need medical attention."

Trip had studied every piece of information about artificial wombs. If he was going to lay the life of his unborn child into the hands of a machine, he sure had wanted to know every technical detail about it. He also knew that the artificial wombs needed constant surveillance by doctors.

"According to my calculations 19 hours and 15 minutes," T'Pol said calmly, but with an urgency in her voice that couldn't be missed. "There is a transmitter built in the artificial womb. Starfleet could find it, before it's too late."

"Liz would do anything to find you," he said. Liz hadn't just been T'Pol's doctor, but a friend for him as well. Liz Cutler had contacted Phlox shortly after T'Pol had discovered she was pregnant. He was an expert on Vulcan-Human pregnancies and a longtime physician of T'Pol. In fact, Phlox had suspected T'Pol was pregnant before she knew. He had found some anomalies indicating a pregnancy in a brain scan he had taken of her, just before her departure of Enterprise.

"And Starfleet will investigate the nurse and anyone who had access to your medical records. The kidnappers knew about your injections and also about the portable artificial womb. You're only been wearing the artificial womb for a couple of days now. As you know, the original artificial womb was a huge tank filled with liquid. It was the newest technology and the portable womb takes a unique step further in this technology. Your portable artificial womb is a first."

"But there is more," T'Pol said. "Tenson knows about the bond. She mentioned that we talked through the bond when we're apart and at a great distance from each other during your stay on Columbia. Have you ever shared our white space moments with anyone?"

"Of course not," he said. "Hardly anyone knows about our bond. What happened when I was in Columbia, only you and I know. Besides, Columbia was destroyed during the war. The whole crew is dead."

That moment when he heard about Columbia being lost, he had felt terribly sad. He hadn't made many friends on Columbia, but he had mourned their deaths. Much to his embarrassment, it was also mixed with a feeling of relief that he was still alive.

"I know Ensign Sato may have sensed that we were able to communicate with each other," T'Pol brought up. "I did a mind meld with her during that time and random thoughts may be picked up when two minds are in a meld."

"Hoshi would never have betrayed us. And she was one of the first victims of the Romulans. Remember that ear injury she got at the beginning of the war?"

He wondered if not for Hoshi who had let him know that T'Pol and everyone on the ship missed him, he would have ever returned to Enterprise. He would probably have stayed on Colombia, even when it was the most difficult thing he had done in his life. He had never felt so alone and devastated, living without T'Pol. Just a few months before, he had been with T'Pol, being the happiest man alive. And he had realized it, only after it was too late. Luckily, they had found a way back to each other.

Like she had read his mind, T'Pol caressed his face with two extended fingers. "You're my mate, Trip. I wouldn't trade our days together for anything else."

She kissed him. During the war, before a battle, he had always found T'Pol in his quarters at night, showing him her love, as if there would be no tomorrow. Like she was kissing him now.

T'Pol broke off the kiss and said quietly "The whole attitude of Tenson showed me that if they receive word that my father is in Romulan custody, they will kill me. I will find a way out of this situation. But when I am unsuccessful and they give me a choice between my own life or damaging the artificial womb, the outcome is clear. Even with the smallest chance of T'Lessa's survival, I will take it."

He felt sick into his stomach by the thought of losing T'Pol. He searched her beautiful face. "I promised to love you to till death do us part," he said, emphasizing every word. "But I want to live with you before that time. We have survived the war together. I will not lose you now. I want to raise a family with you, to argue every day with you, to grow old and gray and make everyone jealous because of my gorgeous, beautiful wife."

T'Pol's whole face softened. "I want to argue with you every day as well, ashayam," she said. It was the last thing she said before the white world around them disappeared.

He was back in his room, sitting before a candle. He had to talk to Kirak.

Part four

Unknown planet, Kirakite hide out, Kirak's office

Pink – Within half an hour after he had knocked on his office door, his father in law had assembled his staff.

Kirak's staff consisted of eight men and women. Two males had the same disfigured ears as Kirak and wore the same stoic Vulcan expression. Among the other six, three males and three females, he recognized Martek, the commander he had met before.

Kirak had also invited V'Ran and two unknown women: T'Mar and S'Tel. T'Mar was a quiet person in plain clothes, S'Tel was a whole different story. Her hair was shaved on the sides, exposing her pointy ears, with lengthy spikes on the top. On her forehead some ridges were visible. She wore black eye makeup and bright pink lipstick, that matched her bright pink jacket. The jacket was worn with black trousers and black boots. Her looks fitted a rebellious teenager, if not for the almost innocent look on her face and the friendly way she communicated with everyone.

The staff members asked Trip all kind of questions in a language Trip never heard before. Everything was patiently translated by V'Ran in English. After he answered the last question, Kirak turned to T'Mar and S'Tel. "We have been monitoring the Romulan army. You two are our specialists in this area. Try to find out the location of Delon."

"My brother Horak may know where he is," S'Tel said. "Delon is a family member and Horak still has some contacts in the family."

Trip wondered if this Horak was the same person as the young engineer he had met on the Desert Rose. Apparently Horak was on a mission, but he could be reached.

With their assignment, the women left. When they closed the door behind them, Kirak addressed his staff in a quiet voice. "This is my plan. You all know about my illness. I may only have twenty years or less to live. But during that time, when they know I am still alive, the Romulan army will continue to hunt down my daughter and her family. When I am no longer among the living, they'll leave her alone.

"So, I will travel alone to Delon's destination and turn myself in. We cannot give the location of this facility. Not only wouldn't they believe what I told them, but we would also be risking the lives of everyone here. Because when the Romulan army knows this location, they will bomb this place. They have done it before. I will not have the lives of my people on my conscience."

The room went completely silent. Then several leaders protested loudly. Especially Martek seemed dead-set against what Kirak had said.

"Osu-sa-mekh?" Trip asked, using the polite way of addressing his father-in-law.

"Sa-fu," Kirak responded. Trip still felt honored the old Vulcan would call him son. "You like to say something?"

"What would happen to you when you give yourself up to Delon?"

"They will capture me and torture me until I'm dead," Kirak said calmly.

"That's why we have to find another way, Kirak!" Martek called out.

"There is no other way," Kirak said, determination in his whole demeanor.

"What about our group, Kirak," another leader – Trip thought his name was Harnen – asked. Trip understood the question. He had witnessed how much his father-in-law was respected and loved as a leader.

"Commander Martek will take my place. He is an excellent leader and a good teacher. And as a Romulan he has more knowledge than I about how to reach his fellow men," Kirak answered in the same calm way he had during this meeting.

Martek looked shocked by his answer. "You honor me with your trust, but I cannot accept this."

New discussions arose, going back and forward between Kirak and his staff.

At the end Kirak stood up from the table. "It has been an honor serving with you. For you to have embraced my ideas and shared my ideals has been the highlight of my life, except for my marriage and the birth of my daughter. But what I am suggesting is only logical. We need to stall for time for T'Pol and my granddaughter to be safe. I will also try to negotiate the release of some of the Kirakite children in exchange for my life. The needs of others, the needs of the many outweigh mine."

Kirak looked at everyone at the table, one by one. Then he said "I have lived my life. Children have their whole lives in front of them. In the end, it's only a small sacrifice to make."

There was a knock at the door. S'Tel entered in. "We have word where Delon is stationed," she said. "He is near a planet called Tikari."

Trip recognize the name of the planet at once. It was the planet of his mission.

"Osu-sa-mekh," Trip stood up from the table as well, took a deep breath and said "I will go with you."