Trip couldn't believe his eyes. Everything in San Francisco looked the same to him. Besides that, it was beautiful, clear day. The Golden Gate shown brightly in the sun as a blur of tourists walked across her. Sea lions were sunbathing themselves on rocks in the bay, and seagulls flew overhead, as did a series of bright colored kites. Nothing appeared to be wrong. The mood felt light, as breezy as the bay itself. It was surreal.
When the Xindi attacked, it felt like something had happened. Tourists were few and people didn't smile. But the Xindi had attacked Earth directly, not a few ships dozens of lightyears away.
Trip wondered unhappily what it would take to make people understand the seriousness of the situation. Would the Romulans have to attack Earth directly?
His communicator chirped.
"Admirals Williams and Admiral Archer will see you now, Sir," said the voice of Williams's assistant.
Admiral? thought Trip, slightly shocked. Then he thought about it some more. Of course, that would make sense. Good for Jon.
Trip headed into the office, trying not to think about what this would mean for him. Would this mean there would be a new Captain? He swallowed his nervousness and put on his best formal, Starfleet posture as he headed into the big office. There stood Admirals William and Leonard, and Archer was there with new pips on his uniform.
"Congratulations, Capt…Admiral…" said Trip, smiling and standing at attention.
"At ease, Commander," said Archer, also smiling, "Or as I should probably say, Captain."
Trip looked at him, incredulous.
"You're kiddin?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding, Captain?" replied Archer, who approached Trip and pinned a new pip on his uniform, "We're going to have to get you some gold stripes before Enterprise leaves space dock."
Trip blinked, then he understood.
"Thank you, Admiral," he said, "I'm honored."
"I wouldn't leave Enterprise in anyone else's hands," said Archer, "Besides me, no one knows her better and loves her more than you."
"Thank you, sir," he said, "Who's gonna be chief engineer?"
"I think that's up to you, Captain," said Archer, "but you'll be happy to know that Commander T'Pol has agreed to remain first officer as well as your science officer."
A flicker of relief washed over Trip's face. Then, it was all business. Archer explained that he would be commanding a fleet and what role Enterprise would play in the fleet. Trip was given command briefings and intelligence reports, and a formal list of his new duties. Afterward, Jon invited him to dine in the Admiral's mess, just the two of them. They ate steak, drank a Napa cabernet and looked out at the sparkling bay.
"Thank you, Admiral," said Trip, "I don't know how I'll live up to…I promise…I'll do my best."
"Don't sell yourself short. You've always done well in that big chair, very well," said Jon, "I was half-hurt at how comfortable the brass was at handing her over to you…I guess I'm the brass now."
Trip took a bite of his steak.
"You know," he said, "I'm not sure this is as good as Chef's…you're not taking Chef with you?"
Archer sighed.
"He turned me down," said Archer, "He's not Starfleet, you know. And he likes it on Enterprise. Thinks of the crew as family."
"Remind me to give him a raise," replied Trip, "I can't wait to tell T'Pol…she'll be…wait, she already knows, doesn't she?"
Archer nodded.
"We wanted to make sure she was okay with it, given that she's always outranked you. She's fine with it. Kind of proud, if Vulcans can be proud. Do you think you two will be able to continue to work together? I mean, very few people outside the ship know you two are even married…but still…"
Trip thought carefully about this new situation. He had been fine with T'Pol giving him orders, when necessary. He was pretty sure she'd be okay if the situation was reversed. In any case, he'd find out soon enough.
"In the meantime," continued Archer, "you're under orders to take three weeks off. This situation is going to put everyone under stress, and Starfleet wants us all to get in R&R while we can. You'll have three weeks at Jupiter Station before we launch back toward the Beta Quadrant."
Trip nodded.
"Mom and Dad are going to be thrilled," he said matter-a-factly, "I'll wait and tell them when T'Pol and I get there in a few days."
Archer smirked.
"I'd like to be a fly on the wall when they meet T'Pol," he said, choking back a laugh.
Trip glared at him.
"Okay, I should probably say 'when T'Pol meets them'…All I'm saying is that the Tucker clan is demonstrative…emotional…fun…and none of those things are very Vulcan."
Trip shook his head. Archer had a point, although he didn't know about his family's reservations about T'Pol. In fact, Trip had been so worried about his family's reservations about T'Pol, it didn't occur to him to worry that she might develop reservations about them. He had better warn them to tone it down. Except that might insult them, and they might take it out on her. He furrowed at the thought and took a sip of his wine.
"Well," he said, "at least we can escape to deep space war zone if things go really downhill."
The new Admiral nodded.
"By the way," he said, "I'm going to hit the 602 club tomorrow night. Would you and T'Pol care to join? It will be sort of like old times."
"I'm there. I'll ask her if she wants to join. She's heard so much about the place, I'm sure it will pique her Vulcan curiosity."
That night, Trip dressed in his civilian clothes, as did T'Pol. They had decided to head out for a celebratory night on to the town at her suggestion. T'Pol had tied a shimmering scarf of triaxian silk around her head to hide her ears, and she wore a human style dress and high heels. Her hair had grown much longer in the last few months as well, so it appeared that the scarf was simply tying it out of her face.
T'Pol had proposed a late dinner at the jazz club called Fusion. Trip knew she liked jazz because she often listened to twentieth century classic recordings like Birth of the Cool and Sketches of Spain when she worked in their quarters. Occasionally, she would even ask Trip if he thought a riff had been composed or improvised. Yet, he was still surprised she even knew of the place.
They were seated in a corner banquet in the back, which allowed them to sit next to one another and be close enough to touch. Trip looked at T'Pol, seeing if she would go for it. She rarely touched in him public, and almost never affectionately. But she was pretending to be human. She slid across the red leather seat and allowed him to put his arm around her. A quartet was playing an improvised version of an old song, and T'Pol paid careful attention.
A waiter appeared.
"Do you have any Grand Dame?" asked Trip, wanting to celebrate with the best Champagne.
The waiter nodded and disappeared. Soon, a steward appeared with a bottle and two flutes. Once the libations were poured, and the steward gone, T'Pol lifted a glass.
"Congratulations, Captain," she whispered.
He clinked glasses with her, meeting her gaze.
"Thank you, Commander…you sure you're gonna be able to live with being under my command?"
T'Pol sipped on her Champagne, and she feigned as though she was thinking hard about it.
"Well," she said, "remember a few months ago when you taught me the game where you were the one in command of me?"
Trip blushed a little. That fun night had resulted from a day when she had been had been particularly harsh with him over the speed of some repairs. When he had returned to their quarters, he had decided to show her a totally new form playacting, where he was the one in charge for once.
"Perhaps I'll better be able to live with you commanding me by day, if now and again I am allowed to command you at night."
She put her small hand on his neck and felt his pulse beat, then she leaned up and kissed him on the lips.
"If that's what it takes to make you happy," he whispered, "but we'll have to play it the other way now and again, too, just so you remember who is in command."
She thought about this.
"Agreed," she said and closed her eyes.
The band was improvising a mash-up of two melodies, and T'Pol listened carefully. She was remembering her previous visit to this place, which had had had a profound effect on her. Memories of that night flitted in his mind as they came to her.
He realized the music evoked an emotional response from her that was slightly dangerous.
"You okay?"
She nodded.
"I came here once, by myself, when I was stationed at the Vulcan compound. I was walking alone and the music drew me inside," she said, mindful that she hadn't told anyone this since she had told Tolaris.
"I found the music," she said, "fascinating. Chaotic. But back then, I didn't understand emotions well enough to…handle the sounds. Since I've bonded with you, I've been able to enjoy the music."
Tolaris had made her fear listening to jazz, but Trip was so comfortable with his emotions, so open that he had restored her love for the music without even knowing it. As she sometimes helped him control his emotions, he could help her access hers without fear.
For a moment, Trip sensed a fleeting, very unpleasant memory. Something had happened to her, but then it was gone. He didn't want to press the issue, but he knew he would need to ask her what had happened to make her stop listening for a period, when she so clearly enjoyed the music. It was more than just fear of emotions.
But he put the thought aside for the night. Instead, he just watched her as she enjoyed the music. It had never been his favorite genre, but he was going to have to rethink his position.
Malcolm paced the observation deck of Jupiter Station. One senior officer needed to be at the station while the repairs were being made, and he had volunteered to be the one to stay for this week. Travis would relieve him after that, and he would at least get to spend some time in the fresh air. He had decided to go to Hawaii again and spend his leave there. He wanted to invite Hoshi, but she had been so distant since the interrogation, and he was her senior officer. He couldn't risk trying to press her into speaking to him, let alone accompanying him on shore leave. On the other hand, he was afraid that if he didn't show interest and concern, she would assume he didn't care.
"Dammit," he said, "I've given her enough space."
He knew where she was staying on the station. She could have gone back to Earth, but for reasons of her own, she had stayed on Jupiter Station. Malcolm had gotten a report that she had been visiting the prisoner, who was now residing in secure guest quarters on the station, under the guise of studying his language. Malcolm knew that her reasons were more complex, of course.
He decided to go find her.
Hoshi, however, wasn't in her quarters. She was in the spacious VIP suite that had become Enme's prison. They were sitting at a small table, overlooking the red storm of Jupiter. They were having a conversation in Romulan.
"It's beautiful," said Enme, "Very breathtaking."
"Are there gas giants in the Romulan system?"
He nodded.
"We've got one even bigger than this. It's a bluish green color, but it doesn't have rings or a storm like that."
"Jupiter was always my favorite planet, growing up."
"You had a favorite planet? That wasn't your home?"
"Didn't you learn about the planets in school?"
Enme nodded.
"Yes, but we wouldn't think of having a favorite…you humans never cease to amaze me with your…preciousness and sentimentality."
"We're proud of our sentimentality," she replied.
Enme took a deep breath. Since becoming a prisoner, he had learned to like Hoshi. In fact, he had liked her when he first met her on the mining colony. Additionally, he liked his sister and Captain Archer. It was just a shame they were his enemies.
Additionally, he sensed no guile in Hoshi's visits. He sincerely believed that she was there because she wanted to learn more Romulan vocabulary and because she felt sympathy for him. She wasn't a spy.
This puzzled him because he also sensed that the operative, Lt. Commander Reed, was involved with Hoshi somehow. He didn't know how involved they were, but humanoid body language couldn't be that different. Whenever Enme glanced appreciatively at Hoshi when Reed was around, Reed had bristled.
Yes, thought Enme, Reed must care very much for Hoshi or else he wouldn't allow himself to be so transparent.
Enme didn't want Hoshi to come to any harm, but he needed to figure out how to use this fact to his advantage.
The next morning, Trip and T'Pol slept in and then decided to go running across the Golden Gate Bridge. The day was again perfect, and both of them were reveling in the little things about being planetside that they tried not to miss too much when they were on the ship. The feeling of real gravity. Birds singing. Wind blowing. Both of them loved being in deep space, but it was impossible not to enjoy time on Earth.
They each had worked up a good sweat, and they had slowed their paced to a walk as they explored Golden Gate Park. T'Pol knelt down and examined a branch that was teeming with lady bugs.
"It is an incorrect name," she said, "Some of these insects are male."
Trip grinned. She could hide her ears but not her nature.
"The name comes from them being pretty, like a lady."
He could tell she still didn't get it, and he was glad. He liked having something about him that was superior to Vulcans. Humans grasped metaphor far better.
They found a shady bench, and they sat down together to rest and drink some water.
"So," he said, "are you looking forward to our trip to Mississippi?"
She looked him in the eye.
"We have insulted your parents by not visiting them," she said, "I am eager to repair the slight."
He nodded. He knew better than to ask if she was nervous. He resolved instead to call his parents and tell them to be sensitive to her Vulcan culture. That would have to be enough.
They sat for awhile, and he remembered how much she had enjoyed their previous evening. He also remembered the fleeting memory of something that had happened. He was pretty sure it involved the V'tosh Ka'tur. He then thought back to how she had been ill for days after they left. He hadn't known her well then, and he never knew what was wrong, but he was beginning to put two and two together. She had been hurt by one of them, and he guessed which one of them it was.
He took her hand, and he shared the direction of his thoughts.
She closed her eyes, but she was blocking the memory.
"Are you sure you wish to know?" she asked.
He actually wasn't sure at all, but he knew he needed to know.
Gradually, she unblocked the memory. He felt what Tolaris had done to her, and how she had long blamed herself. However, going to the club had been a test. She had wanted to see if she could listen to the music without it feeling tainted. She had finally let go of what had happened.
"I'm glad I didn't know. I would have probably killed him," said Trip, who surprised himself when he realized he wasn't being hyperbolic.
"We weren't bonded then."
"No," he said, "but I liked you enough that I would have wanted him dead."
"It's long over," she said.
He sensed she didn't want to discuss it further, and he respected that.
When Malcolm had discovered Hoshi's quarters empty, he had gone back to his temporary office and done some work. He had been tempted to hover around her quarters and wait for her return, but he decided against it. Malcolm was many things, but he wasn't a stalker.
After he filed his last report, he found his way back to her quarters and hit the door chime. It opened.
She was wearing her exercise clothes and stretching on the floor.
"Hello," she said.
"I came to see if you wanted to get dinner later," said Malcolm.
She didn't respond. Not with a no, not with a yes.
Screw this, thought Malcolm.
"We need to talk," he said.
"Those are four worst words in the English language," she said, "Nothing good ever follows them."
He laughed. She wasn't wrong about that. He approached her on the floor and sat down next to her.
"You're in pain," he said, "I get that. I never should have allowed you to take part in the interrogation. You're in a unique position to empathize with the prisoner. . with Commander Enme . . .and it wasn't fair to ask you to try and pretend that wasn't true."
She turned away from him. He leaned over and very gently turned her head toward his so he could look her in the eyes.
"However," he said, "I think you know I care deeply about you and whatever this thing is between us, I don't want it to end."
He leaned over and kissed her. It wasn't precisely gentle, but it wasn't forceful either. It lasted a long time, and then she put her arms around him and deepened the kiss. Then, he carefully broke the embrace and stood up.
"You're either in this thing with me or you're not," said Malcolm, "if you want, I'm all in. But it has to be what you want."
He then turned on his heel and went before she could get a word out.
