Trip awoke, startled to find himself alone. It took a moment for him to remember that T'Pol had been safely returned to him. He closed his eyes and felt no sense of peril, no need from her. She was just gone.
He sat up and reached from the comm system, but he stopped short. He suspected where she was, and it made him more than uneasy. The captain had given her 24 hours off recover, so she wasn't on duty. That is, she had the day off as long as the shooting didn't start. But if it had started, he would have been awakened as well.
He turned on the light and grabbed a PADD off the nightstand. For the next few minutes he pretended to concentrate on the latest article in a warp field journal, then he heard the door open. T'Pol appeared in the doorway.
"I hope I didn't wake you," she said.
"You went to see him," he said.
"Yes," he said, "The captain thought it was a good idea, given our family connection."
"How is he?"
"He is physically well. As expected, he is restless and unhappy at being a prisoner."
T'Pol sat down on the edge of the bed and took of her boots. She then crawled up next to Trip, who looked at her half-accusingly.
"He poses no danger to me."
"Well, at the very least, I'm glad it's not your other brother who is stuck in our brig. This one seems sane at least."
T'Pol nodded.
"Sane. But Romulan to the core. He will try and escape."
"How does that make you feel?" said Trip.
She looked at him as if the question had no meaning.
"He's your brother, and he saved you and Hoshi. We've got a saying on Earth, blood is thicker than water."
Still no reaction.
"Honey," said Trip, "you've got no family left on Vulcan. It would be only natural for you to be curious about him or sympathize with him…"
T'Pol tilted her head at Trip.
"That is a human perspective. He may be my half-sibling, but he is Romulan and I am Vulcan. We are different. We also don't know each other."
"But family…"
T'Pol slipped her hand into Trip's.
"You're my family," she said.
The ProConsul looked down at the screen in front of him to see his son Ston smirking at him with infuriating smugness.
"I'm telling you father. It wasn't me that gave her the dilithium sample. It was Enme. He was the traitor, not me. Now he's dead."
The ProConsul's face remained stoic — nearly Vulcan. He knew damn well that it was Ston and not Enme who had exposed the mining operation. He also knew that Ston's incompetence had led to the deaths on the mining colony that included his beloved Enme and possibly T'Pol. The ProConsul held out hope that she had left for her ship before the explosion, and he had intelligence officers working on confirmation of that. However, he wasn't sure what he was going to do with his insane son.
On the one hand, the ProConsul would have liked to kill him with his own hands for what he had done. On the other hand, he was alive and Enme was dead. Suddenly, his only living, unmarried son had become very important to him.
As much as it sickened him to do so, the ProConsul resolved to follow the living. He would protect his prodigal son and protect the new alliance — even if it meant destroying the memory of his dead son.
Ston's lie would have to stand.
"Come home to Romulus as soon as you can, my son," said The ProConsul before abruptly hanging up. He stood up and went into the next room, where the girl Bala sat quietly with her Reman servant.
"My son Ston will arrive soon," he said, "It is now important that you meet him."
Malcolm and Hoshi were curled up under the covers in her quarters, sharing a bottle of wine and looking out at the stars. She had been saving the bottle for a special occasion, and she couldn't think of a more special occasion that her rescue and subsequent reunion with Malcolm.
Besides, she thought, given that a massive war is about to start, I'd better seize the moment.
"Did I tell you how happy I am that you're safe?" said Malcolm.
"I think that's the twentieth time," she laughed.
"Remind me to stop around 100," said Malcolm. "So, he's really T'Pol's brother?"
"It seems so," said Hoshi.
"How did she react?"
"Like a Vulcan," said Hoshi, "she didn't seem to care one way or another."
"What's he like?"
"Un-Vulcan," she said, "They're totally different, Romulans. They laugh and smile, but even the sane ones seem, well…let's just say I understand Vulcans better after meeting their cousins…they seem very volatile."
Malcolm took a deep breath and remembered his first encounter with the Romulans, which involved having his leg skewered and the rest of him nearly being blown to smithereens.
"We've orders to start dismantling the minefield," said Malcolm, "We're going to start in the morning, even the the first Vulcan cruiser won't arrive until midday."
"At least it will give us something to do," said Hoshi, "I hate the empty waiting around."
"Well, at least we've found something to do with our time…"
Malcolm caressed the top of her shoulder, which peeked out from the blanket that covered them. She smiled softly.
"So…" he said, "we haven't really had time to talk about this…"
"What's there to talk about?"
"Well," he said, "we work together — and well-."
She kissed him on the cheek.
"I don't know what I would have said…days ago, before," she whispered, "but a war is coming. All we have is right now."
Malcolm looked into her eyes, which had started to tear. All the years he had known her, he had never seen her cry. He held up his glass.
"To right now then."
Trip looked down at his wife's face, which was lit only by the glowing starlight from the window. Her eyes were shut, head thrown back and her hair clung to the sides of her face. He leaned down and kissed her on the neck, as his hands were entwined with hers on either side of her head. He didn't want to move at all or do anything to end this moment. If the war started right then, and the ship blown out of space, he would be happy to die right there, feeling what it was like to be inside her. It was familiar now, yet still somewhat alien. The heat of her body, its copper scent, her strength — even the placement of her heartbeat — these were all different from a human woman. He hadn't known what he was missing, that's for sure. Now, he couldn't imagine being with anyone else.
"Open your eyes," he whispered.
She obeyed him, and their eyes locked. He noticed a subtle twitch at the corners of her mouth — her Vulcan smile.
As if to hide it, she reached up and kissed him on the mouth. They melted into each other, both knowing how precious every moment was.
Archer sat in his room, alone and sleepless. Even Porthos, sound asleep, was no company. He paced for awhile, then decided to make himself useful. He decided to pay a visit to their guest. He dressed in his uniform, grabbed the best bottle of bourbon he had and walked with as much military efficiency as he could effect. The guard let him past, and he found the Romulan sitting in a chair with his feet up against the bulkhead, looking out the window.
"Good Evening," said Archer, "I'm Captain Archer."
"Commander Enme of the Romulan Star Empire," said Enme "but I suppose you already knew that. My sister or Lieutenant Sato must have informed you of my identity."
Archer looked at the young man, and he was mildly shocked by just how much he resembled T'Pol. Their facial structure, the set of the eyes was all quite similar. His eyes were dark though. Very dark.
"Did T'Pol inform you of the current political situation?"
Enme stood up and faced his captor, suddenly effecting a military posture.
"You've decided to violate the sovereignty of the Empire," he said, exasperation in his voice.
"It's my understanding that your Empire had every ambition to violate the sovereignty of everyone in the Alpha quadrant."
Enme cocked his head to one side.
"Is that what you all call this sector? The Alpha quadrant?"
Archer nodded.
"We do plan on annexing it," he said, "and if you had any sense at all, you'd see the benefits."
Archer laughed. He laughed at his prisoner, who apparently knew nothing about humans and less about Vulcans.
"Why would we do that? You haven't exactly been selling yourselves."
Archer took two glasses from the table and opened the bourbon.
"Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Sato told me all about Romulan Ale. I figured I'd return the favor you gave them and share this with you. It's from Earth. American whiskey, called bourbon. This bottle is one of the finest you'll find, aged to perfection."
Enme walked over and took the glass.
"It's an unappetizing color," sniffed Enme.
"Most humans consider blue unappetizing. Appropriate for clothes, not consumables."
"Touche," said Enme, "May I propose a toast?"
"Do Romulans toast?"
"A human custom your Lieutenant Sato introduced to me. Apparently it started as a way to determine if one is being poisoned by one's host."
Archer nodded and held up his glass.
"May this ship survive the coming battle," said Enme, "My life depends on it."
"I'll drink to that," said Archer.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, Enme spoke.
"Tell me about my sister," said Enme.
"Whether I can do that or not depends on what you want to know."
"She struck me as honorable. Is she?"
"As honorable a person as I've ever known," said Archer.
"Is she happy?"
Archer furrowed his brow.
"You do know about Vulcans don't you?"
"Vulcans are Romulans. Romulans are Vulcans. She's capable of being happy. Is she?"
"I think so. A terrible thing happened to her less than a year ago — she and Commander Tucker lost a child. I don't think anyone human, Vulcan…or Romulan could ever come through something like that unscathed. But she seems happy."
Enme helped himself to a generous second glass of bourbon and poured the captain one as well.
"I read about that. You humans are sick."
"Not all of us," said Archer, "but Terra Prime represented the worst of us."
"To be fair," said Enme as he gulped down his whole glass, "I'd already be dead if our situation was reversed. We wouldn't bother holding a high ranking enemy officer on the eve of a battle. Not even for information."
"As far as I'm concerned it's bad luck all around that you're here," said Archer, "I owe you thanks for saving my crew members. Even though we can't release you, I won't forget that I owe you a debt of honor."
Enme looked into Archer's eyes, and Archer thought just maybe the young man believed him.
Trip and T'Pol made their way to the captain's mess that evening. The crew had had a busy day using the phase canons to blast away most of the minefield. It had been productive, and Trip and Malcolm's teams were busy restoring the drained power to their weapons as quickly as possible. The captain wanted everything to be at maximum efficiency. So, Trip was irritated at having to socialize with a Romulan instead of help his crew with their work.
On the other hand, he was curious as hell to get a look at his wife's brother.
Three heavily armed guards let them into the captain's mess.
They arrived to find Hoshi already there, seated next to the prisoner. They were chatting in Romulan. Trip blinked for a moment. The man looked like a Vulcan. Specifically, he looked like T'Pol, but he looked up smiled at them. It was disconcerting.
"Good to see you again, sister," said Enme, following Archer's lead and standing up to greet the new arrivals.
"Hello, brother," said T'Pol in Vulcan monotone. "This is my husband, Commander Charles Tucker the Third," she continued formally.
"It is a pleasure," said Enme.
"Likewise," replied Trip.
"I had the chef prepare steak, since I heard you were an omnivore," said the captain, as they all sat down around the table. The steward came in and poured them all glasses, making sure to pour smaller portions for Enme and T'Pol since he assumed they were both Vulcans. The captain, continuing the tradition his started with his guest, toasted to all of their continued safety in the coming days.
"A fascinating but lightweight beverage. We do have a kind of port," Enme said, "but nothing like this. Tell me, T'Pol, do all Vulcans drink? I heard it was taboo in your culture."
T'Pol sipped her wine.
"It is frowned upon, but those of us living among off worlders are free to adapt," she said smoothly.
"I suppose we can't ask you much about your culture given the circumstances," said Hoshi, "but thank you for letting me have a look at the literary database."
Enme turned to her and smiled, warmly with no hint of cynicism.
"I thought it would improve your diction and possibly even your accent," said Enme, "and I'm sure that you will be very useful once this part of space has been annexed."
Trip glanced over at Archer, and they both knew better than to take the bait.
"I really enjoyed the ancient poems," said Hoshi, "but I fear any modern Romulans might find my accent weirdly influenced by them. "
She still spoke in Romulan.
"It's actually very pretty," said Enme as he locked eyes with her, "I think most Romulans would find it very charming."
Even through the universal translator, Trip picked up the flirtation in the Romulan's voice. It irritated him. Hoshi was kind of like a kid sister to him, especially since his own sister had died, and he didn't want any sister of his making eyes at a Romulan.
Maybe it's a good thing that T'Pol is related to this guy, he thought.
Hoshi apparently noticed the flirtation too. She was smiling at their guest in a way Trip hadn't ever seen her smile.
T'Pol remained quiet, seemingly unaffected by the unusual company. Trip didn't even sense anything strange from her, but somewhere between dinner and dessert, she brushed his hand under the table with her own.
Despite himself, Trip was was impressed with the Romulan, who was probably under tremendous stress and was managing not to show it - without the benefit of Vulcan-style emotional suppression. The guy made conversation, answering questions he felt he could and easily deflecting the ones he thought he couldn't answer. Several more times, their guest tried to rattle his hosts but, confident they had the upper hand, not one of the Starfleet officers responded.
Malcolm paced outside the captain's mess. He understood why he wasn't invited, but on the other hand his curiosity was nearly overwhelming They were dining with a Romulan - the mysterious, unknown race that was about to attempt an invasion. And he was standing outside in the hall like he was a common guard.
He sighed. He wanted to be in their sitting next to Hoshi, who he had worked out would be the dinner partner of the mysterious — and tall — Romulan. The one she said she owed her life to.
Malcolm just didn't like it. He didn't like it one bit.
