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15

The corridor was empty. With a glance over his shoulder, Malcolm ventured forward, listening for the sound of voices or steps approaching. If he was caught here at this hour, there would be trouble, and trouble would most likely consist of a trip to the Correction Room, the last place where any servant wanted to be.

Slipping away after tea hadn't been as easy as he had expected. Yumur had assigned him to wash and seed more pla'savas, and after that he had to be in the Meal Hall to attend the Family during the evening meal. It was only now, after curfew, that he had managed to get away. It was risky, yet Malcolm knew he couldn't have waited until the next day. He had to get a look at the object in T'Per's office.

The door to her study wasn't locked as Malcolm had expected it to be. It seemed unusually careless, especially since the Family weren't exactly trusting when it came to their human servants. Then, of course, the servants had no interest in stealing books and data padds.

Well, maybe this one does. Malcolm tried not to think of the consequences if he was discovered "fooling around" with a scientific specimen, even if it wasn't believed to be of much importance. Only two days ago, Dzharel had been caught using Sahriv's computer to send a message to her brother on the neighbor estate. Rumor had it she had to be carried back to her sleeping chamber.

Very quietly, Malcolm closed the door behind him and took a quick look around the study. It was sparsely furnished, and would have seemed austere if not for the many flowers in front of the window. He didn't dare switch on the light, and so it took him a moment until he saw the large container sitting on the desk. His heartbeat was loud in his ears as he crossed the room. Part of him was prepared to be disappointed; surely the search team had merely discovered an old satellite that had dropped out of orbit, or some other piece of electronic garbage. T'Pol could have told him the exact odds, had she been here, and Malcolm was sure that they were not in his favor.

As he got closer, he noticed that the container wasn't sealed; there wasn't even a manual lock. Obviously, this was a mere routine find to T'Per and her colleagues, not a discovery of any significance. Which made him wonder how many such objects had been found in the South Country. Or could it be that the Vulcans simply weren't interested in "unusual happenings", as T'Var had put it?

Carefully, Malcolm lifted the plastic lid off the container, half expecting an alarm to go off any minute. Nothing happened; the room remained dark and quiet as he leaned forward to get a closer look.

For a second or two, he stood very still. It only took him a brief look to realize that the thing inside the container hadn't only come from the other side.

Enterprise had sent it. He would have recognized the design anywhere.

His heart was beating madly as he reached into the container and very carefully ran a hand over the metal plating. It was dented and scratched as if it had been tossed about in an asteroid field, and there was some sort of hull reinforcement he wasn't familiar with. They must have come up with a way to get this thing through the barrier, and maybe they had even managed to save some of the data it had recorded, for this was obviously a probe of some sort.

His arms trembling a little, Malcolm reached into the container and closed his hands around the probe. Maybe he could find a way to reactivate it, transmit a signal. Maybe he could send them a message. Maybe-

The light went on so suddenly that he had no time to react. His hands let go of the probe as if on their own volition, his instincts telling him to run, but he knew that it would only make things worse if he tried to make a break for it. Blinded by the sudden glare, he could only make out the outlines of a figure in the doorframe, and for a moment wondered whether his luck had run really dry and his nightly excursion had been discovered by the House Intendant himself.

Then, the person in the door spoke – not, as he had expected, in an angry tone of voice, but with quiet amusement.

"If you are here for a secret rendezvous, Krintu, I am afraid you have chosen a rather unfortunate place."

He stared, frozen into place, as Lady T'Var slowly closed the door behind her. Strangely enough, she was smiling slightly as she turned back to him.

"I believe there is a spot in the herbarium where the young people like to meet. Maybe you should ask your bunkmate Mesya for advice next time."

Her eyes were gentle, and Malcolm suddenly realized that he was still standing there with his arms in the container. Quickly, he pulled them out, very aware that there was no sense in denying what he had been about to do. If she reported him to Sahriv, the very least that would happen to him was a whipping.

"Do not worry," she said as if she had read his thoughts. "I have never been prone to "tattling", as my great-grandson would call it. I do have the impression, though, that you are not here for an assignation."

Malcolm's mind raced. If he came up with some story, she would see through it immediately, and she might not take kindly to being lied to. And she did seem genuine in her assurance that she would not betray him.

He exhaled slowly. "No, T'Sai."

She regarded him calmly. "You had been planning to come here ever since tea, had you not?"

He inclined his head. "Yes, T'Sai. I wanted to get a look at the object Lady T'Per was telling you about."

For a moment, he was tempted to add that he had always been interested in the phenomenon, maybe spin a tale about his father being one of the field workers who had seen the ship fall into the sea. He remained silent, though. She wouldn't believe him anyway.

T'Var was watching him, her expression unfathomable. "You know something about it, don't you?" she said finally.

He hesitated. "Yes, I do," he said then. "I think I know who sent it."

"Sent it?" Her eyebrows shot up. "You mean it was meant to turn up here?"

Malcolm nodded. "I believe it came from the... the other side."

"The other side?" T'Var asked. "What do you mean? There is only one other continent on this planet, and it is uninhabited."

Malcolm remained silent, unsure what to say, or, in fact, whether it was wise to say anything at all.

"Please," she said softly. The word sounded unusual, coming from a Vulcan – or, at least, one of these Vulcans. "You can trust me."

He gave her a long look. He wasn't entirely sure that he could trust her, but what choice did he have? If she was like the rest of them, she would have the truth forced out of him soon enough. And if she wasn't... if she wasn't, this might be his only chance.

He nodded slowly. Trip would have made the same choice, he was sure of that.

To his own surprise, the words seemed to come out with little help on his part, as if he had held them back for far too long. He mentioned things and names he had sworn he would never say aloud in this place, told her about the sudden, unexplained malfunctions, the crash landing, his futile tries to reach Enterprise. The shock of suddenly finding themselves in a world that, according to the rules of their own universe, shouldn't exist at all. She listened in silence as he told her about Silak's interrogations and the Zhel-lan's decision to sell Trip in order to force a confession from Malcolm.

"He wouldn't have believed me even if I'd told him the truth. And Trip... I've no idea where he is now. I don't even know if he's still alive."

Saying it out loud loosened something within him, and he looked away, not wanting to meet her eyes. "But at least they're still looking for us. They sent a probe through the barrier, and..."

Malcolm trailed off. T'Var had rested a frail hand on his arm, her tone gentle as she spoke. "I am sure they will not give up." She paused for a moment, and for some reason, her own voice was rather brittle when she spoke again. "Krintu... Malcolm. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to hear about what you call the other side. I have always suspected that there is something in the South Country, a... phenomenon, but even in my wildest dreams I wouldn't have thought of a... a door to another universe." She smiled ruefully. "Maybe I would do well to acquire what Skon calls a "fertile imagination". It might have guided my research into the right direction."

Her expression became serious again, almost tense. "So you are saying there are Vulcans in your universe?"

He nodded. "Yes. They're our allies."

There was a long silence after that. T'Var's fierce, dark eyes were tinged with sadness, and he could only guess what was going on in her head.

When she finally spoke again, her voice had regained its firmness. "We will find him."

Malcolm looked at her. "You mean-"

"We will find your Trip." She smiled a little as she said the name. "It should not be too difficult. Aylak runs several factories, and it should be easy enough to find out where his newest purchases were sent. We will find him, and then you two will tell me everything about the other side."

He opened his mouth, not even sure what he was about to say, when she tightened her grip on his arm. "You will have to forgive an old woman for her curiosity," she said. "I have been waiting for a chance like this for over a hundred and fifty years."

Malcolm understood what she was trying to tell him, and found himself returning her smile. "Still," he said. "Thank you."

"It is I who owe you thanks, Malcolm. May I call you that? I like it better than "Krintu"."

Malcolm nodded emphatically. "Please do. I rather prefer it myself."

His name might be old-fashioned and rather stuffy – some people would say that it was an apt fit – but it was better than the alternative.

She raised an amused eyebrow, but made no further comment. Instead she glanced at the container on the desk. "You said your friend is an engineer?"

"He's Chief Engineer on our ship."

"Then I am sure he will be interested in having a look at T'Per's find. That is, if I can convince her to hand it to me for my researches."

It was all she said, but Malcolm recognized it for what it was: a promise.

"Thank you, T'Sai." He stressed the address, wanting her to know that it was used out of genuine respect, and not because protocol demanded it. "I'm grateful that you're willing to help us."

Again, she looked amused, the ancient face smiling without actually moving a muscle. "Do not thank me yet, Malcolm, or you will come to regret it when I bore you to death with my questions. I must warn you, I am not one to tire easily."

"I'd be glad to answer any questions you have, T'Sai." And it was true. As long as she helped him find Trip and do something about the probe, he would talk until he was blue in the face.

She smiled. "That is very good to hear."

"I have to admit, I am still confused. If it was a predictable fact that the Andorian agent would betray her, why did Ms. Bond decide to trust him?"

At Halan's genuinely baffled tone, T'Pol experienced a touch of amusement. She had never taken much interest in Movie Night, in spite of Commander Tucker's invitations, but she knew that the humans' fictional narratives employed their own brand of logic. Halan's attempts to analyze a film according to cthia, the ancient, mathematical logic of Vulcan, were bound to end in disaster.

Focused on her readings as she was, no one in the science lab would have guessed that she was listening to Ensign Sato's reply.

"Well, he was one of the Bond boys. Of course she'd trust him."

"I am afraid I do not follow."

Ensign Mayweather smiled. "The Bond films are a series. They've been made for hundreds of years, but the patterns haven't really changed, except that some of the films now feature Jacey Bond instead of James Bond. So of course she has Bond boys instead of Bond girls."

Sato seemed to notice that this only confused the two Vulcans even more. "The Bond girls or boys try to seduce Bond, but they usually work for the bad guys or were sent to take over Bond's mission. So in the end, Bond never really gets together with them. They're mostly there for their good looks."

"Ah." Mevak paused. "So the films denounce the superficial physical relationships in Earth's crime fighting scene?"

At that, both Mayweather and Sato started laughing. "Not really," Sato said. "They're not supposed to be taken entirely seriously. Most people just watch them for fun."

"Except for Malcolm," Mayweather added. "I saw him take notes."

Sato smiled. "Well, he would."

Silence ensued after that, and T'Pol supposed that it was the mention of Lieutenant Reed that had sobered the mood.

She had been unwilling to interrupt their conversation before, knowing that the light exchanges were beneficial to the morale of the team. Now, a change of subject did not seem amiss. "The analysis is complete," she announced, and nothing in her demeanor gave away that she had been listening to their previous conversation. "It appears that 40 percent of seleya-tukh will suffice to make the alloy resilient against the electromagnetic charges."

Halan came over to look at the data. "I will let our colleagues on the Vuhnaya know so that they can begin the resequencing."

Sato had also stepped forward to look at the readings. "Are you sure this will work? We almost lost the probe when it was pulled into the vortex. How do we know the shuttle won't get lost inside the anomaly?"

"The thrusters are powerful enough to withstand the strain," T'Pol replied. "Otherwise, Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed would have been pulled into the vortex as well. We have to assume, however, that the shuttle will be harder to pilot once it is encased in the duranium-seleya-tukh alloy."

"I've run a few simulations," Mayweather said. "I believe I can find a way to compensate the interferences." He smiled. "It'll be a bumpy ride, though."

Sato's expression was thoughtful. "If we route Navigations into the main computer, we'll have a back-up even if the shuttle's power systems go temporarily offline."

"A logical suggestion," T'Pol said. "I shall mention it in my report to the Captain. Please proceed."

The four younger members of the team returned to their work stations, and T'Pol allowed herself a moment's contemplation. She had watched the young Vulcan couple interact with the human crew for almost a month now, curious to see how they would cope. And admittedly, she had been surprised. Their readiness and ability to adapt to human ship routine was exceptional, and certainly beyond the expectations of her superiors, who had warned her that remaining on the human ship would prove "challenging". Sato and Mayweather, on the other hand, seemed willing to accept the two young men as colleagues and, if their shared off-duty activities were anything to go by, even as friends. Moreover, their joint efforts in preparing a shuttle to cross the anomaly were proceeding with remarkable speed and determination. There seemed to be a new possibility in all of this, one none of her superiors had reckoned with. Maybe a crew consisting of more than one species would not, as many believed, end up in chaos. Maybe its potential exceeded that of an only-human, or only-Vulcan crew.

Entering the Captain's ready room half an hour later, T'Pol saw that it was not a good time to share her musings with Archer. He was sitting at his desk, padds piled up on either side of the monitor, and only gave her a short glance when she approached. On the screen in front of him, the three-dimensional schematic of a shuttle pod was slowly revolving around its axis.

"I've gone through Travis' simulations," he said without greeting. "If we apply support beams to the wings, we'll be thrown off course by the first magnetic gust of wind. What we need to do is replace the wings with components made of the alloy you suggested."

T'Pol stepped behind his chair to look at the data. "Indeed. A logical approach."

Archer nodded curtly, but T'Pol doubted that he had really heard her answer. The set of his shoulders was tense, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, suggesting that he had not slept well. Or, T'Pol thought as she surveyed the number of padds and schematics on his desk, maybe not at all.

"Captain," she said.

He threw a look over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"May I suggest you take a break and get some sleep? Logic dictates that your work will improve when you are well-rested."

"Not now, T'Pol." He had turned back to the schematics. "I want to get this show on the road."

T'Pol suppressed a small sigh. This was a conversation she had not been looking forward to.

"Captain," she said. "In my estimation, it will be several weeks before we can safely attempt to cross the anomaly. I trust you do not intend to spend the entire time working."

At that, Archer whirled around in his chair. "Several weeks?"

"Indeed. It will take time to design a functioning support frame for the shuttle, and I believe we should attempt at least one unmanned test flight before we send a rescue team through the anomaly."

Archer shook his head. "You mean, send the shuttle in there on remote control? We can't afford to waste time, T'Pol."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him. "It would not be a waste of time, Captain. It will not improve Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed's situation if we endanger more crewmembers in an attempt to rescue them."

His mouth turned into a hard line. "They could be dying over there, T'Pol."

T'Pol had been prepared to encounter this argument. "The probe recorded a rather detailed image of the surroundings before it crashed. I have analyzed the data, and I believe that the chances are approximately 20:1 that Lieutenant Reed and Commander Tucker will be able to survive for an indefinite amount of time. They have both gone through field training, and Lieutenant Reed has expert knowledge on how to survive in almost any environment. And the conditions over there can hardly be called harsh. The climate is fairly mild, and there is enough fauna and flora to provide sufficient food and shelter."

"They could have been hurt in the crash," Archer said, a little louder than before. "Ever thought of that? Maybe only one of them made it to the coast at all."

T'Pol inclined her head. "I have taken this possibility into account," she said. "But I do not believe it very likely."

Archer didn't reply immediately. When he did, his voice was softer than before, almost resigned. "They're both so damn stubborn, aren't they?"

"Indeed," T'Pol said. "I do not believe Lieutenant Reed or Commander Tucker would leave an injured crewmate behind, even if it were the logical thing to do."

Archer nodded. "I guess they both made it to the coast, then. They could still be in trouble, though."

"They could," T'Pol agreed. It was illogical to deny it. "Yet I do not believe that they would want us to endanger their crewmates' lives or omit crucial safety precautions."

An ironic smile tugged at Archer's mouth. "Now you sound like Malcolm."

T'Pol said nothing. Her choice of words had not been entirely unintentional.

The Captain sighed. "I guess you're right. We should send in another probe in the meantime, though. Maybe we can pick up their biosigns this time."

T'Pol's face betrayed none of the relief she felt. She had not expected the Captain to submit to logic, at least not so quickly.

"I shall begin immediately."

She had already turned to leave when Archer called her back. "T'Pol?"

"Yes, Captain?"

He smiled, and this time there was nothing bitter or ironic about it. "Thanks."

She looked at him, and, for once, did not point out that thanks were not necessary. "You are welcome."

TBC…

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