—Chapter 08—
T'Pol had retreated to her Ready Room soon after squadrons 3 and 7 had returned, Captain Tucker along with them. She retreated there because she had an urge to pace the Bridge, and that would never do. Once in her Ready Room she found her chair, folded up her legs, and began a round of meditation. How long she drifted in that purposeful awareness, absent thought, she had no way of knowing, but that state was eventually interrupted by a hail from Lt. Salno, the Athena's Comm officer.
"Yes, Lieutenant," said T'Pol.
"Your presence is required and requested aboard the Columbia, Captain," said Salno.
"Understood," said T'Pol, thinking, 'FINALLY', and shortly thereafter, T'Pol found herself led through the Columbia to the Captain's Mess by a young Ensign, and then the door opened, and T'Pol cursed her luck.
"We meet again, T'Pol," said Shran with a leer. "Something magical is happening between us, Captain."
T'Pol was disappointed, for Shran was not the one she wanted to see, then she noted that Lt. Talas and Dr. Phlox were also here. The presence of all these additional people did not please T'Pol, for she had expected a private meeting with Captain Tucker.
I see. My presence is required for a meeting, thought T'Pol. A meeting with others in attendance in order to keep it focused on fleet matters, a meeting with others present in order to keep me at arms length. I do not think so, t'hy'la.
That Vulcan word, t'hy'la, indicated at the very least a deep and lifelong friendship… at the very least, and T'Pol had come to admit to herself, since waking from her coma, that she aimed for much more than that with Captain Tucker. She had come to that realization after considering the fact that he was her first thought on waking from her coma, that he was the emotional driver behind her decision to join StarFleet, though she would likely have made the same decision for more logical reasons eventually. She had come to that realization through the long days and nights of contemplation as she made her way to him since waking, through the restless nights since she'd found the Border Fleet yet not found Captain Tucker there, through her annoyance that he'd not made telepathic contact with her since that first contact had come and gone.
T'Pol greeted everyone present, and now faced a dilema. The Captain's table sat eight people tonight, though it could be shortened, or lengthened. Three people on each side, two on opposite ends. Shran and Talas sat on one side, Phlox on the other, with an empty seat on either side of him.
"Doctor," said T'Pol, "which seat does Captain Tucker favor?"
She knew it would be one of the end seats, or the other.
"That one," said Phlox, indicating the chair on the north side of the table.
T'Pol heard laughter from Shran, but ignored it, and took the seat next to Phlox's left side, which put her next to Captain Tucker's favored seat. Now, if Captain Tucker chose the end seat on the south side of the table simply to be contrary, T'Pol resolved to rise from her seat and bludgeon the good captain about the head and shoulders with her fists. Problem solved, T'Pol stood straight and poised in her chair, as the stewards took drink orders, and shortly thereafter returned with those drinks.
The door opened and T'Pol's heart jumped in her throat, but it was Captain Reed, and the man grinned at T'Pol, as he took the end seat closest to the door, which pleased T'Pol, for now Captain Tucker's choice of seats was assured. Coincidentally, she noted that Lt. Talas, who had been seated next to Shran, hopped a seat to take the chair at Captain Reed's right hand.
"I've heard you were back, Captain," said Malcolm, looking at T'Pol. "It was good to hear, and we're lucky to have you with us."
"Thank you. Those captain's bars look good on you, Captain Reed," said T'Pol. "Congratulations."
"Likewise, T'Pol," said Malcolm. "That's a hell of a ship StarFleet chose as your first command. I've just seen the specs on it."
T'Pol opened her mouth to answer, and then the door opened, and Trip entered the room, his eyes drawn to T'Pol's, and the Vulcan looked down, overcome for the moment, for her heart was racing, her breaths quickened, and her cheeks colored, though she was not aware of that fact.
Fascinating, she thought, for such a response was atypical for her.
Trip chose the seat next to T'Pol, as she'd expected once Captain Reed had taken the other, and said, "A magnificent Andorian bastard to the left of me, a beautiful Vulcan to the right, and a doctor to care for them both, once they try to kill each other."
"No danger of that," said Shran. "T'Pol and I are about to embark on a wonderful romance. It's just a matter of time."
"She's a lucky woman, Shran," said Trip to Shran, then looked at T'Pol, for she'd finally looked up at him, face flushed. "You've chosen wisely, T'Pol. Shran is destined for greatness."
"Indeed," said T'Pol, grasping for normalcy, consciously working to bring her breathing under control.
It was a difficult thing to do though, for the captain's eyes were not as she remembered them. Oh, physically they were the same, but where they'd once been gentle and full of good humor, now they were cool and poised, and the good humor she imagined she still saw in those eyes was tinged by cynicism. T'Pol longed for an excuse to touch the captain and get to the heart of the matter, to allow her Empathy talent to interrogate the man's inner nature, in order to determine his emotions. Alas, no such excuse came to mind.
"It's good to set eyes on you again, T'Pol," said Trip, "though I prefer my last memory of you."
T'Pol gave a slight gasp at that, for she felt the captain's telepathic touch, and the image of his last memory of her slipped into her mind along with his psychic touch. Nude, startled, and lovely as he saw it, for he shared that last part, along with the nude and the startled part.
"Are you all right, T'Pol?," said Trip, amusement clear in his voice.
"I am fine, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.
To her relief, the stewards came close, taking attention from her as they began passing food around the table, and T'Pol finally had a moment to think since the man had come in the room, and her mind pointed out something troubling. This man standing next to her looked like the Commander Tucker he remembered, but he looked younger than remembered, and this after three years, and after dealing with the Madness Season and the grim aftermath. He should have been aged ten years by that ordeal.
Is he a clone?, thought T'Pol, grasping for straws.
She sensed amusement coming from the captain now, and realized he'd maintained his link with her.
Would you stop that?!, thought T'Pol. Eavesdropping on my thoughts is impolite!
I'm not a clone, thought Trip, and shared the thought with T'Pol. Talk to Phlox about it, if you're curious. He knows as much as any.
T'Pol nodded her agreement, then looked at the food before her. She had a plate filled with lettuce, Thai basil and mint leaves, but none of the greens were shredded, or drizzled with dressing. The other plate held a small bowl filled with a pink sauce colored by red shreds of some kind of vegetable, and four items that looked like egg rolls, which T'Pol had eaten before, but their skin was somewhat translucent, though blistered and browned in many places. She looked at Captain Tucker, and raised brow.
"Fried springrolls, T'Pol," said Trip. "Rice paper, wrapped round pork, shrimp, rice noodles, grated carrots and mushrooms in mine, while yours leaves out the pork and shrimp and adds tofu. Then you have some sweet chili sauce. Grab a piece of lettuce, top it with some mint and basil, plop a fried springroll atop the greens, wrap the greens around the springroll, dip it in the sauce, and munch."
T'Pol followed Captain Tucker's instructions, and was rewarded with a taste of heaven! She looked back at the man, and nodded her approval.
"My nuoc cham sauce is even better than the chili sauce, " said Trip, "but it has fish sauce added to the mix, so it's not an option for you."
"I am content with the chili sauce, Captain Tucker," said T'Pol.
"So why are we here, Trip?" said Shran. "If it's just for the food and company, I'm game, but I had the impression that we were here to talk shop."
"Never spoil a meal with shop talk, Shran," said Trip, then turned his attention to Talas with a wicked smile. "Let's talk of Lt. Talas instead. What exactly is her function in the fleet?"
Lt. Talas who had been speaking to Malcolm in a low voice, and then laughing about something he said, turned round on hearing her name, and Malcolm grinned, for he knew Trip's purpose in bring round this topic of discussion was to play with Talas.
"Near as I can figure it," said Phlox in a good natured tone, "she's supposed to be some sort of liaison between StarFleet and the Andorian Imperial Guards, but most of her work seems to be done behind the closed doors of Captain Reed's cabin, if the rumors are true."
Talas stroked the hilt of the Imperial Guards dagger she wore at her waist, and said, "Your tongue wags freely, Doctor. I'm about to trim it for you."
Phlox laughed, held up his hands in a manner calculated to placated Talas, and said, "Apologies, Lt. Talas. Captain Tucker, I suggest we move the conversation along."
"Than perhaps you can tell me why Captain Tucker seems younger than he should, Doctor," said T'Pol, "all things considered."
"That is fascinating topic," said Phlox. "I cared for him when the madness took him, as I did for every crew member of the Enterprise, and in the process, Captain Tucker severed three fingers from his left hand, joint by joint, bit by bit, during that time."
T'Pol looked at Trip, and the man said, "The pain kept me focused, when I felt myself slipping into madness."
"It's why I allowed it," said Phlox. "I reasoned it was the lesser evil to having the captain slip into madness, and then death."
"And yet, I see that his hand is whole now," said T'Pol.
"Yes," said Phlox. "Once the madness passed, the fingers grew slowly back, over the course of eight months or so. He even grew back his appendix, which had been removed in childhood. It's quite fascinating."
"To what do you attribute these things, Doctor," said T'Pol.
"It seems that something within the captain has optimized his health," said Phlox. "You Vulcans have something similar, though not as extreme."
"The Healing Trance," said T'Pol, naming a discipline within the Focus talent.
"Yes," said Phlox. "Physical damage is healed at two or three times the normal rate during one of your Healing Trances, mental health damage is repaired, or at least minimized after a Healing Trance. I know Vulcans do not regenerate lost appendages, but until I get a definitive answer to your questions, we can view Captain Tucker's gift as something similar. It has its limitations, but it is a quite desirable property."
"What limitations?" said T'Pol.
"Well," said Phlox, "it won't keep the captain alive if he suffers traumatic damage, but I suspect that it will heal him completely, eventually, if he survives the trauma."
"Quite useful," said T'Pol. "Do all Humans have this ability now?"
"His is the only case I've seen, T'Pol," said Phlox, "but there must be others, numerically speaking, if one calculates the odds."
The stewards had cleared the now empty plates, and brought out freshly made French inspired Viet baguettes, along with bowls of bo kho for the majority, beef stewed with lemongrass, carrots, fish sauce, five spice powder, star anise and ginger, all swimming in a tasty broth, and topped with cilantro, while T'Pol had rice noodles and bamboo shoots in a lemongrass and vegetable broth, which the Vulcan found quite yummy.
Clearly Shran agreed, for he said, "The Columbia has a good chef. I find this flavor profile quite tasty."
T'Pol nodded her agreement, and Phlox did the same.
"It's Vietnamese food, Shran," said Trip. "You owe me a bottle on Andorian Ale if you like the food, Shran."
"Mmmm, I love it," said Shran. "I'll have a case delivered to you tomorrow."
"Much obliged, Commander," said Trip, who had grown quite fond of the stuff.
The plates were cleared once again, and the stewards brought out a vegetable stir-fry atop rice for T'Pol, and soft-shelled crabs pan-fried in butter and served atop rice for the rest, and for the next twenty minutes only moans and groans were heard from all, before empty plates were cleared once again, only to be replaced with hot coffee and cheesecake slices generously topped with a fresh mango puree.
"Oh, this was a great meal, Trip," said Malcolm, and Talas nodded her agreement: until tonight, the Andorian had never tasted either cheesecake, or mangoes.
"Indeed," said T'Pol.
"So what's up?" said Shran. "Don't keep us in suspense."
"I located the new Xindi Reptilian and Insectoid homeworld," said Trip, and everyone drew up upon hearing that, for this was of monumental importance, which could end this war, "but my telepathic knowledge needs to be fleshed out with precise physical data, before we make our move. No point in taking the Border Fleet there, only to lose half the fleet when the ships warp inside planets or asteroids, or a sun, etc… We need precise sensor telemetry readings, so I'm sending the Athena there to survey the region, and I'm tagging along for the ride."
T'Pol liked the last part of what she heard, though she showed no signs of it.
"That's sensible," said Shran, and Malcolm nodded .
"We'll be gone for weeks," said Trip, "and I'd love to leave the Border Fleet in the capable hands of an Imperial Guard, Shran, but I can't risk the fleet on your Guard's do or die attitude."
Shran chuckled at that, and signaled his understanding.
"So I'm leaving Malcolm in charge, and I'll expect you to support him while I'm gone," said Trip. "Don't do anything to tip the Xindi off that anything has changed. Keep patrolling this sector, engage them round here, keep their attention here."
"Done," said Shran. "When do you leave?"
"Tomorrow," said Trip.
Talk round the table degraded now to pure social interaction, and a pleasant time was had by all, but eventually, Malcolm excused himself, Talas slipping from her seat to follow him. Phlox was next, and then Shran, but T'Pol hung back, ostensibly in order to finish her coffee, though privately wondering how to reach out to Captain Tucker, and make her interest in him clear.
Finally, Trip rose, and said, "I need some sleep, T'Pol. We leave the Border Fleet tomorrow."
"Understood," said T'Pol.
She rose from her chair, and moved for the door, for she was willing to wait until she had Captain Tucker all to herself on the Athena before reaching for more from the man, but as she moved past him, Trip grasped her gently by her bicep, and said, "It's good to have you back, T'Pol. I've missed you."
And there it was. Trip's grip on her bicep completed the circle and allowed T'Pol's Empathy talent to perceive the man's emotions. She felt his affection for her, his love, his insatiable hunger for her, and his yearning for possession, all held in check through sheer force of will. That was what she felt, and it was more than enough. For the first time since she awoke from her coma, T'Pol relaxed, truly relaxed, far more so than in the deepest meditation. This, what she felt from Trip, was all that mattered. All other problems would resolve themselves, or not, but she knew that no matter the twists and turns, she would end up as Captain Tucker's mate, assuming they lived through this showdown with the Xindi.
"Of course you have," said T'Pol, boldly now, for with that touch, Trip had nowhere to hide. "I am adorable."
"Don't get cocky," said Trip, noting the nature of T'Pol's thoughts now as naturally as noting the color of her eyes. "I'm in close contact with a couple of Vulcan mail-order brides who match well with me, in case we don't work out, and what's more, every pretty Ensign in StarFleet will pile up atop the other, like a mountain of wide-eyed kittens, each hoping to be the one selected by the captain of the Border Fleet."
"That is unfortunate for them all," said T'Pol, "for I am clearly the pick of the litter, Captain. The Vulcan mail-order brides, and the mountain of kittens, well, they must learn to live with their disappointment."
Trip grinned, and then released his hold on the Vulcan.
"Good night, Captain," said T'Pol, and made her way for the door.