The captives

By panyasan

Chapter 16

The Conclusion – part one

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

Time-line: Takes place between 2155 (after the events of Terra Prime) and the beginning of the year 2156, just before the start of the Earth-Romulan war (2156-2160).

Summary: Starfleet is looking for a Romulan spy in their midst, who is responsible for the attack on Trip and behind the nanites that form a telepathic transmitter. Malcolm Reed's girlfriend, Lieutenant Rianna Thott, who infiltrated a Romulan terrorist cell, dies before she can disclose further information. Malcolm Reed finds a present from Thott containing an information chip.

Author's note: Chapter 16 and 17, the final chapters, are from all the different points of views in this story: Kov, Trip, Archer, T'Pol, Phlox and Malcolm. This chapter features Kov, Trip and Archer's POV regarding events prior to Thott's death. Thanks as always to my beta KKGlinka.

- Sickbay, Starfleet facility in the Kanjani-system -

Kov woke up, realizing he was alive. Only 20 hours ago his life had been threatened by the nanites in his body. The only thing he could remember was a massive headache pounding at his temples and a feeling of nausea and illness. He had decided to heal himself in a trance. When he regained consciousness the first time, Doctor Green, the facility physician, had told him that the trance had made his illness worse and explained that parasitic nanites were crawling around in his body.

He underwent regular treatments now, though in only one day he had felt much better. He looked around sickbay. Several crew members were getting their treatments and Doctor Green and his team were working non-stop.

A familiar person walked into sickbay. The lines on Lieutenant Hess' face showed she was very tired. The blond woman walked toward him.

"I heard you are feeling better," Hess said. She gave him a little smile.

"Yes, the doctor's treatments have been successful. I hope you are not affected by the nanites?"

Hess gave a small sigh and cast a loving look at her belly that clearly showed she was pregnant. "I am and so is the baby. Doctor Green doesn't want to start a treatment because he is afraid it will hurt the child. So we will wait on the radiation treatments until he is born. In the meantime, Doctor Green hopes he could develop a new, less invasive treatment for the baby, it being so vulnerable."

Kov noticed the worry written on Hess' face again and searched for a saying that would comfort her.

Hess didn't give him a chance, because she continued, "Thanks for asking, Kov, but I actually came to tell you a Vulcan woman called and she wishes to speak to you. She managed to somehow access Starfleet security channels, so she had some explaining to do. If you're allowed to leave sickbay, there's a private room next door with a communication terminal. Shall I put her through that terminal?"

He nodded, trying to suppress his feelings of anxiety and expectation. T'Rel! Ever since he asked Trip to send her a message, he had been hoping and waiting for her to call. He hadn't expected she would call so soon.

He thanked Lieutenant Hess, stepped calmly out of bed, put on his robe and moved quickly to the room. He had to control his breathing when, finally, the message came through and T'Rel's lovely face filled the screen.

T'Rel had a round face with a small nose, two beautiful big brown eyes and a normal sized mouth. Her blackish-brown hair was cut to half length and it curled slightly around her head. She was more filled out than most Vulcan women and the reddish brown robe she was wearing showed her firm, but muscular upper arms. The expression on her face held the normal, blank Vulcan poise.

"You wished to speak to me," was T'Rel's introduction, her voice neutral. There was more warmth in her voice when she added, "I heard you have been ill. Did you recover well?"

"I did. Is your family well?

"They are."

"Are you well?"

"I am."

Kov knew it was time to be bold. She had not addressed him by his personal name nor by any title, indicating she was waiting for him to make the first move. "I have thought about our last conversation. It helped me very much to order my thoughts and gain new insights."

"I thought it was stimulating as well," she responded in a calm manner, but quickly enough for him to gain hope.

"I had thought to ask you if you will permit asking your father if I could talk with you on a more regular basis," he brought up with all his courage. He understood there was the problem of distance. "As we are talking now. Or we could write letters. Maybe we can read the same books and discuss them."

He saw her eyes light up for a second. "That would be agreeable."

Kov's heart was pounding. T'Rel's eyes had lit up! She had said it was agreeable. There were no objections. What was more, she hadn't mentioned a betrothal or husband. She didn't have one! "Then I will contact my father to ask your father for permission. Live long and prosper, T'Rel." He bid her farewell with the traditional gesture.

"And to you, Kov," T'Rel replied, copying his sign.

The transmission ended, the screen went black but his world was full of color. She had agreed, without hesitation. Then it hit him. Now he had to do the hardest part. He needed an intermediate that would ask permission of T'Rel's father, someone who would negotiate on his behalf. He suppressed his feeling of unrest. It was no easy task. He had to call his father.

Kov decided that there was no logic in postponing. He contacted the communication officer and explained that he had to make a call to his father on Vulcan. He was permitted to use a secure channel and an hour after Kov had taken action, he made contact with his parent's house on Vulcan. His father was home and the old general and Minister of Justice's face filled the screen, lean with short gray eyebrows that underlined his stern look.

He remembered the silent joy in his father's eyes when he graduated from his university with the highest marks, the way his father twisted the corners of his mouth to hide his fury that Kov – the son of V'Lek, son of H'Ras – had joined a cult that went against everything his family stood for, the relief and welcome in his eyes when he had left the V'tosh ka'tur and returned to his family for a short while. That last memory gave him the courage to start.

First, he saw his father stiffen slightly, maybe under the impression he was talking about a Human female, then he saw him relax. The lines around his eyes showed him clearly: his father was overjoyed. He could almost hear him think, "Finally Kov is acting like a normal Vulcan." His father didn't care much about philosophies - he doubted if he ever had read the Kir'shara with much interest – but he lived and breathed the traditional Vulcan ways. Helping his son get acquainted with the woman he had chosen for Kov in the first place was probably, for his father, like eating sweet Kartali-bread on an empty stomach.

Leaving the negotiation in his father's capable hands and feeling his body needed rest, he returned to sickbay and slept for a couple of hours. When he woke up once more, the communication officer contacted him. The officer joked that he was a popular man and told him that Commander Tucker had tried to reach him.

"Put him through," he ordered the man and went to the same location as where his conversation with T'Rel had taken place. When he established contact, his first impression was that Trip looked tired and his surroundings were dark. It was probably night where he was staying on Earth. Trip smiled and seeing him close up, he clearly noticed the liveliness in his alien blue eyes. It was a total change from the man he met only a few days ago.

Trip asked how he was doing and then said he needed his help.

"I would like to be of assistance in any way I can," he answered. "What kind of help?"

Trip looked a bit shy, smiled quickly and said, "To arrange a Vulcan wedding."

"I see," he responded and while he suspected as much, he still had to ask, "For whom?"

Trip's answer was like Kartali-bread for him. "Mine."

- San Francisco, Earth, Trips appartement -

It was night and Trip was in his living room, by his desk. Hehad just ended his conversation with Kov. Everything was set in motion: Kov would contact his nephew, a Vulcan priest, and try to find a way to travel with him to Earth. He foresaw some complications with that last part because of Kov's work and illness, but his friend had said that he would find a solution. Kov would keep his mouth shut about why he wanted passage to Earth. Trip didn't want his marriage becoming public knowledge.

On the desk was one of Kov's PADD's containing Vulcan literature about the bond. When Trip read it the first time, he almost had the sensation of the desert wind on his face, the scorching heat of the sun on his head. The words were filled with aggression, pride, something feral and primitive, as if he were staring into the abyss of Vulcan's fire plains, bright red and yellow. Like he was staring into the Vulcan soul.

"We are touch-telepaths. We feel mind, body and soul through touch. Everything we do is with great intensity and the nature of the bond links us to someone's mind and katra, so intense, we can only connect with one person. One person for our entire life. Therefore, intimate relationships outside the bond cannot exist. The thought alone is horrific."

Trip knew this words were true. More true than any of the lies people were spreading, like he had heard tonight and which must have horrified T'Pol. He was already shaken by it, let alone T'Pol. His eyes searched in the dark for the object of his affection and he walked over to the couch.

In his living room, the only light came from his communication terminal and a lit candle placed on the vokau, a Vulcan stone plate,near the sofa. The glow of the flame shined on T'Pol's sleeping form resting peacefully on the couch. Strands of her chestnut hair fell gently on the pillow and her face softened when she was asleep. He stroked her cheek gently with his finger. Her breathing became deeper, as if his caress made her feel even more relaxed.

He took the candle from the vokau, held the stone plate in his hands and studied the marks and colors. Vulcans made such a plate to remember a loved one. When T'Pol had told him she was creating one for their daughter, he cautiously suggested red, symbolizing her world and blue, symbolizing his. T'Pol also painted some symbols in pink. Pink stood for sweetness, kindness and innocence, everything their daughter ever was. At the side he saw a symbol he knew, a circle and triangle joined together, in the same fashion Kov had shown him four days ago, the Vulcan symbol of unity, in this case, love.

"I love you," he said aloud, his eyes on the vokau. "I miss you. I miss you every day." He felt the tears prickling in his eyes. He blinked to push them back. "And I will do everything to protect your mother and prove evil will not win."

He put the vokau back and took a seat in the sofa chair. His mind wandered back to the last days that led to this eventful evening.

Four days ago, he had felt nothing, neither from T'Pol, nor from the bond. He had thought their relationship was over and his life had felt dark and empty. Then Kov told him about telepathic avenues – and the bond – being blocked in prison and he had regained hope. Captain Archer had called him back to Earth because of the Romulan attack and he had spent the next day on a Tellerite ship, reading the literature Kov gave him. When Trip read about bond-mates making connection during meditation, he simply tried. To his astonishment, he was able to connect with T'Pol, until a piercing pain stopped him. His brain felt fried, but nevertheless, he had seen a glimpse of T'Pol.

After two days of travel, he arrived on Earth, eager and nervous to know if he could contact T'Pol again. She had been there, waiting for him. Yesterday evening, T'Pol had shared her heart with him. It was a strong antidote, a force that steadied him when he found out the shocking news that followed: The nanites in his body and the attack on him by a telepath a year ago.

Today, the lack of sleep hadn't bothered him. Despite the chaos surrounding him, everything had fallen into place. The love he felt was more like a quiet knowing in his heart, a stream of trust, running like a river though the desert of anxiety that had been his life the past year: I belong to this women and she belongs to me.

The accident with one of his engineers and Malcolm's girlfriend had shaken him, but for Malcolm it had been a crippling blow. He stayed with him, until Mal had said he wanted to go back to his apartment alone. Seeing his best friend's white face and bewildered eyes, he didn't think that was a good idea. He had offered him a bunk, but Malcolm had declined.

When Malcolm left, Trip went to sickbay for his medical treatment and was helped by one of Phlox's assistants who happily informed him that the nanites in his body were still not working and diminishing in numbers with every treatment. He was advised to give his body a rest but Trip checked on the captain, who was still being treated for the nanites in sickbay. The treatment had taken a toll on him, but while officially on sick leave, the captain assumed his role as soon as he saw Trip. Archer told Trip he was off duty until tomorrow when he was expected for a meeting investigating Rianna's death.

Suddenly with a lot of free time, he searched for T'Pol. She had been humming in the back of his mind, a pleasant reminder of her presence. He found her in one of the science labs, diligently working. For a short moment he observed her, her short brown hair with the lighter streaks that fell alongside her face, her brown eyes focused on the object in front of her. The little lines around her eyes showed him that she was tired, the faint crinkle above her nose suggested pure concentration, but her lips reminded him of the warmth of her kiss.

Then she looked up, noticing his presence. Without needing the bond, the little spark that came into her eyes showed him she was happy and relieved to see him.

"How is Lieutenant Reed doing?" she asked.

He could feel his lips form a grim smile and he told her he was worried and that Malcolm had gone home. "If you're finished with your work, maybe you would like some dinner with me?"

"I still have to do one test. One of the people who was infected with the nanites was with child and Doctors Phlox and Green are working on a new method that would stabilize the nanites in her condition," T'Pol replied.

He offered his help and spent the next hour working side by side with T'Pol, discussing the possibilities of treatment. He enjoyed observing her scientific precision and imagination. After they finished, T'Pol filed her report and went with him, still talking about the nanites and the events surrounding Rianna Thott's death. T'Pol was unambiguous in her response to his doubts that he may have overlooked an engineering problem, causing the accident.

"If you have no indication at all that you have forgotten something in the tests, and all the try-outs you did were flawless, the cause has to be found somewhere else."

He smiled at her, his eyes searching her face, thinking how in her logical, Vulcan way she managed to put his mind at rest.

At that moment two women passed them by, noticing their interaction. They whispered something to each other he couldn't hear, but when he greeted them with a nod, he saw both of them casting a look on T'Pol that could only be interpreted as hostile. He was treated with a stare of pity. He shrugged. He couldn't care less about gossiping women.

They continued on their way, visited a nearby store for some food and took the shuttle bus to his apartment. It was there when he realized their conversation had become one sided.

"Penny for your thoughts," he teased T'Pol, curious about what she had been thinking. He didn't get a witty reply about old currencies and the use of the Starfleet credit card, which he half expected.

T'Pol sat down and, with some hesitation, handed him a PADD. "I did not plan on bringing this up, especially with all the events that happened today, but this is too much of a coincidence, so investigation may be wise," she explained. "I received this letter today. I am not disturbed by the content – they are the normal accusations – but one detail led me to believe the source is a highly placed person in Starfleet and, given the last threat, I think there is reason for concern."

He became ill at ease hearing her words. He searched her face for any indication how she felt, but T'Pol's face was as closed as any Vulcan's could be. He could feel bits and pieces of her emotions through the bond, but it was vague, like she was holding back.

Before he had a chance to look at the PADD, T'Pol continued, "The letter quotes something I said during the investigation of Terra Prime. That information is classified, so someone with access to those files must have written this treat letter."

A suspicion dawned on him, yet he asked, "Which words?"

"That my intimate relationship with you was in the past," she answered. "The letter uses the exact same words. It all points to someone in Starfleet."

"T'Pol, what you said during the investigation is pretty much common knowledge. Someone leaked those words to the press. It was all over the news, just days after you went to prison."

A sense of astonishment, bordering horror, entered his mind. Still, her voice stayed neutral. "That we have been intimate is public knowledge?"

"Our relationship and the end of it is," he responded. He didn't want to sound bitter and bring the subject up, but a whole year of frustration and pain took its toll and the words flooded out of his heart. "Before and during the investigation we grieved together. We kissed, we were holding each other, we slept in each other arms, remember? We were intimate. It pretty much stung when you denied that."

"I did not," T'Pol answered. He sensed anger and confusion, when she added, "The assistant investigator who asked me had seen the pictures of us kissing. He knew we were romantically involved. Still, he asked about our intimate relationship. Humans take great interest in sex, especially when it comes to an alien woman. He asked all these personal questions and he would have continued to ask them. Given the circumstances, I had to answer honestly. Our last encounter was a long time ago."

You don't have to tell me, he thought. He missed being with her. He always loved that T'Pol was a passionate women and he wanted to hold her, feel her, love her. It been too long, much too long.

He shrugged his feelings of unrest and answered her. "T'Pol, you have been with Humans a long time. I understand you wanted the guy to shut up – I wanted that too – but by now you have know Humans don't ask what's going on in the bedroom in public."

"My experience is different. They asked those questions. When I joined Enterprise, I became aware that people found me attractive. The emotions people were displaying while they watched me were overwhelming, confusing, fascinating and repulsive at the same time. I shielded myself against those emotions. I made sure nobody acted on them, but I must admit I was curious as well. They were emotions that I must control," she explained. "Not that I regret certain emotions."

With a small pause she continued, "What I found puzzling was that there seemed to be a desire to twist those emotions. What I have read in the threat letters, seen it in the looks... I have heard it before. They not only called me certain names, but indicated I was using my sex appeal - as they called it - to manipulate Humans into working for me."

"Whoa," he interrupted her, "things that you've heard before? People have said this to your face?"

"I have good ears," she said simply, "and the matter of my sexual appeal is a common conception among Humans."

He rapidly felt his anger raise at his own race, judging a woman they hardly had exchanged a word with, a woman who lost everything while helping them. "They are lies, T'Pol, stupid insults from gossiping people who have nothing else to do than break down someone who's different. In the years I worked with you, you never flirted with any crew member or officer in Starfleet. You never charmed your way in, threw smiles at someone to make them work faster."

He wasn't stupid. T'Pol was an attractive woman. He had noticed that from the moment he saw her beautiful face and the way her clothing outlined her curves. He had eyes in his head, and judging from remarks by other guys on Enterprise, they had too. Only when T'Pol became more and more a part of the crew and people started working with her, had those remarks died out. Or people stopped commenting on her when he was around. He didn't know or care, but what he did know was that T'Pol didn't use her looks or sex appeal – he hated that phrase - to get things done. The thought alone made him mad.

"Charming your way in, isn't really the Vulcan way," T'Pol commented dryly, calming his anger a bit. Like she was analyzing the subject out loud, she pointed out, "Although I did make a sexual remark to distract an intruder on Enterprise."

"Compared with the thousand other times you didn't, it can hardly be called typical of you," Trip refuted. He was the only true friend she had on the ship. She was all alone, serving in a Human world, paying the price for being isolated."You always acted professional, scientific and work orientated. In fact, you acted in such a manner that people see you as the logical Vulcan, the first officer and nothing more. With the exception of me, of course."

"You fall under a very different category," T'Pol remarked in a low, warm voice.

Apparently good memories filled her mind, because in her eyes he saw the glint of an all too familiar look, a mixture of desire, curiosity and amusement. He wasn't the only one who was longing. He grinned, feeling vindicated that he was the only person she would flirt with, but before he could reply a call from the communication terminal interrupted them.

It was some one of his engineers, worried about Thott's accident. He put him at ease. When he was finished, he saw the PADD laying down on the table. It suddenly hit him. T'Pol had spoken about threat letters.

"This isn't the first threat letter someone send you. Why didn't you mention it before?" he asked.

T'Pol had a tendency to keep things from that would make him uncomfortable. He suspected it was mostly because she didn't want to burden him and because she was so used to fighting her battles alone. If they were going to make their relationship work, she needed to know that in troubled times they were in it together.

"I received two letters of this kind after the Xindi attack and one after we returned from our travel in the Expanse," she replied. "Remember the day we went to the beach and I was wearing a purple shawl to cover my ears? You asked me about it."

Trip's mind went back to that day. "You said it was a precaution, because you had some trouble with anti-Vulcan sentiments. I had no idea a threat letter was part of it," he recalled, irritated at her for not telling him about the letter and angry at the entire world for not leaving T'Pol in peace.

"There was also another one," her voice became slightly unstable, only noticeable to someone who knew her very well. "When I returned from Vulcan after visiting my mother. All of them made the same accusations like in this letter. Only the last lines are different and that's why I brought this one up."

"Otherwise you wouldn't? Doesn't it bother you that someone's threatening you?"

"The opinions of others about me I cannot change, but I must take action if they are threatening to hurt people. In the others letters, Vulcans are given derogatory names involving emotional robots that shouldn't be on Earth. This letter claims that Vulcans are on Earth with the sole purpose of taking over and, in the long run, will be responsible for the eradication of Humans and their culture," she explained, making her logic sound flawless.

"That is a step further. I am more concerned about these negative portrayals of Vulcans, slipping into the minds of people, making them hostile toward us, judging us without knowing us. Thoughts such as those poison society, giving them justifications for violence. In that respect, I see more danger in general threats or threats against people important to me than personal attacks on me."

Her last words suddenly gave him an idea. He was still holding the PADD T'Pol had given him. Trip turned it on and scrolled quickly through the words of hate that made him sick to his stomach. He swallowed when he read about the ugly sneers over his daughter and he saw his hunch confirmed when he read the death treat against him. He wanted to wash his mind of the foul thoughts. He felt horrible but that feeling was pushed away by pure anger. He didn't care about a treat against his life; the fact that they smeared his daughter's memory and tried to hurt T'Pol, it had to stop. The line was drawn there.

He turned the PADD so that T'Pol could see the front. Without saying anything, his fingers pushed "Delete". He looked into her eyes. "Nobody is going to insult or hurt you, not when I have something to say about it. Nobody talks this way about you or our daughter."

He noticed a sense of gratification from her after hearing his words, but she remarked simply, her eyes not leaving his face, "It is impossible to stop what people think or write."

He shrugged. "I don't care what people do or say. It's our business what we do and how we deal with our relationship and if it was up to me, we'd get married soon, make our bond official."

"You want to marry me?" T'Pol asked carefully.

"It would be the logical course of action," he said. He almost sounded Vulcan, but it was logical for him. T'Pol was the only person who had provoked such strong feelings, the only one he could think of marrying. According to ancient Vulcan customs, they already were.

There was a small hint of amusement in her voice, a tone that he hadn't heard in a long time when T'Pol responded, "There is the Earth custom of asking the bride, on both knees, I have heard. If we are combining both cultures..."

Trip realized that no matter which planet they came from, in some respect, women were all the same. "One knee," he corrected her. "One is enough."

She raised an eyebrow and he got down on one knee and took her hand. He couldn't find poetic words to say and they weren't needed anyway. "I love you. Marry me." When he looked at her, expecting her to say something Vulcan such as, 'That would be agreeable', he felt a small, but strong desire that she would simple say 'yes'. Not agreeable, just 'yes'.

"Terau," she whispered and although he didn't understand the word, it sent shivers through his body. Her beautiful face was at peace and her brown eyes were shining with joy and the conviction that they were making the right choice, taking the right step, when he heard her answer, "Yes."

He stood up. His eyes on her, he took her petite face into his hands. His fingers went through her hair, caressing it. His thumbs softly massaged her temples, until her eyes drifted shut. Sparks of the bond sputtered between them, electrical impulses connecting them. On impulse, he opened his mind, like he had done before when he first made contact with T'Pol on the Tellarite ship. Spontaneously, she reached out to him, opening herself, her mind to him. In an instant, he was flooded by a sea of overwhelming emotions, which left him disoriented. The streams of emotions were wrenched into control and he saw images and memories flashing by, before their minds became one.

The rest of the evening went by in a happy blur, only to be interrupted by Malcolm's visit. His friend had decided that he would rather spend his misery in company rather than alone. Trip invited him to stay and spend the night in the guest room. T'Pol was called away and when she came back, she made her bed on the sofa. It wasn't exactly how he planned it, but under the circumstances – T'Pol still recovering from her prison time and everything that went on this day and evening - he didn't push the subject.

During the night, T'Pol had a nightmare. Through the bond he could sense it was the same dark dream as before: A wall of ice, a black void, thick clouds, angry voices, faces from the past: The Suliban that tortured T'Pol, Tolaris, a former fellow prisoner.

He went to her and woke her from her dream. She stared at him for a moment with an almost wild look and tensed slightly when he put his arms around her. Exhaustion emanated from her. She felt warmer then usual and he could see small drops of sweat on her forehead. He could smell her familiar scent, a mixture of copper and spices.

"I thought meditation stopped you from dreaming," he remembered.

"I need more meditation to process the events of last year," her voice came. He sensed her regaining self-control, but she was still on guard. Wanting to make her relax he returned to their old routine.

"Breath," he whispered.

She hesitated for a split second and then nodded.

He searched for the neural nodes in her neck and kneaded them gently. He noticed a scar on her neck, close to her ear, the place where the prison device had been. He felt her relax. Then he moved his hands under her pajama top to massage the nodes running along her shoulders.

"Maybe you should lay down on your stomach," he suggested.

Without a word she did, placing her head sideways on the pillow and closing her eyes.

Underneath his fingertips he felt narrow thickened patches on her back, making her skin uneven. It took him a second to realize they were scars, more reminders of her imprisonment. Forcing himself to ignore them, pushing aside his outrage lest it disturb her, he focused on finding and palpitating the neural nodes along her spine until her breath took on an even rhythm.

He slowly removed his hands. Leaning over her, his lips touched the bare skin of her neck in a kiss, waiting for her to respond. But her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly. T'Pol had fallen asleep.

Unlike her, he couldn't sleep anymore and in the darkness of the night, he turned on his communication device and contacted Kov. He had to take care of some business and so he did, before he went back to bed and drifted quickly back to sleep.

- Starfleet Headquarters, Doctor Phlox's sickbay -

Jonathan Archer hardly spent a day in sickbay in his life. The bio-bed on which he lay was too hard, the smell in sickbay made him nauseous and the sounds downright annoyed him. If he were honest, they reminded him too much of his weird dreams about Rajiin.

In the dreams, he woke up in a sort of sickbay, his head in a weird helmet and his hands wired to an IV. The dreams had upset him, frightened him, but more than that, made him angry deep down inside. It was that fury, rooted in the fact that Rajiin had used him that made him snap in a way he never had, when Phlox was examining him and he saw a blond woman entering sickbay. "I am not going to be your lab rat once more," he had thought and that was the last thing he remembered before waking up in this bed.

He knew he had attacked the woman and she had defended herself. Jon could still feel the bruise on his neck. Somehow her pinch had rendered him unconscious. He closed his eyes, but the visions of Rajiin, mixed with the events in sickbay, him strangling Rianna Thott came into his mind.

He doubted if Phlox's treatment was working. The nanites in the other patients were diminished by every treatment, but he still felt like he was crawling out of his skin. He heard a sound and, opening his eyes, saw Trip's familiar face.

"There are some new developments in the case," Trip told him. "Your presence at the investigation into Lieutenant Thott's death is requested."

Two hours later, Jon returned to his bed in sickbay. The meeting had cost him more energy than he was willing to admit. He was happy to have been part of the action, instead of laying down in sickbay. "Some new developments in the case" Trip had called it. Since when had Trip become a master of understatement? His head was swirling with all the new information.

First of all, Rianna Thott had been an alien woman, working for Starfleet Intelligence. He'd known something was off about her, but had waved it away, blaming his weird dreams for being so antsy. Thott had infiltrated a Romulan cell in order to find a spy who worked inside Starfleet. Senator Tenson's name kept keeping cropping up. He knew Tenson, she was a hard working woman that earned her nickname as the iron lady. Was she a Romulan spy? Jon found it hard to believe. But then again, it looked like Raijin was involved as well.

He'd always thought she was forced into working for the Xindi and attacking his crew members but Reed's logical arguments in the meeting were hard to counter. When Reed explained that the telepath had to be someone Trip knew, the list of suspects was very small and only one fit the description of a blond woman with blue eyes. He knew that better than anyone else. He dreamed about her every night.

So when Harris brought up his dreams and asked why he hadn't recognized Raijin in his dreams, he'd never felt so embarrassed. He had failed the men and women he respected and he expected to see contempt in their eyes. It didn't happen, merely astonishment that he had failed to report such an important detail. He should be grateful they hadn't court marshaled him.

He got into a sitting position on the bed, placing his pillow behind him, too restless to sleep again. Looking to at his hands, he had the odd sensation that his world was falling apart. He had failed himself. He had failed to save his crew from disaster. He hadn't fixed the problem and even now he couldn't be much of a help. To make it worse, his friends didn't need him anymore. Trip and T'Pol – he could ignore all the little signs, but it was getting harder to deny – were back together as a formidable team. Hoshi... When was the last time he spoke to her? What did he know about her?

"Captain," Phlox's official doctor's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I came here to check on you." Doctor Phlox stood at his bedside and soon did some small tests to examine his heath.

"Is everything fine, doctor?" he asked, more out of routine than curiosity.

"Your body is recovering, but I'm more worried about your mental state. How are you doing, Jonathan?" Phlox smiled at him, the polite, encouraging intimation of an experienced professional.

Still, it was so long since anyone besides Erika had called him 'Jonathan' and he wasn't deaf to the sympathy in Phlox's voice. So he answered more honestly than he had in a long time "I don't think the treatments are working. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin."

"Helpless and impotent," Phlox suggested.

"How did do you know?" he asked, surprised that Phlox had put his feeling so well in words.

"That's how you looked liked when I arrived," Phlox explained. "You were used without your knowledge or consent, but on a fundamental level, you believe you could have prevented it. It's natural to feel guilty, but it wasn't your fault."

"A whole year is gone and my friends were hurt. Starfleet and Earth – if the nanites hadn't been discovered, Earth would've been offered to the Romulans on a silver platter. I saw nothing. Did nothing. I failed everyone," he burst out.

"I think you don't understand your condition. Of all the individuals I examined you were the most affected by the nanites," Phlox responded. "The transmitter was fully built in your brain and influencing you. Judging from your dreams and advancements the nanites made, you were probably the first Human to be infected, directly, like a test subject. No wonder you weren't yourself."

"Can the damage be undone?" Jon asked, worried about his condition. "Can't you operate on me and remove the nanites and transmitter? I want those things out of my body as soon as possible."

"I understand, but operating is very dangerous. The brain is very important and vulnerable part of the Human body. The best way is this slow method. It's understandable you feel like you're crawling out of your skin - interesting impression, by the way." Phlox paused. "Not just your body needs healing, but also your soul."

"But for now I'm pretty useless," he concluded.

"Nobody is useless. You are still the captain," Phlox answered. "Look, your talent is to gather great individuals with great skills. They follow you because they trust you. That hasn't changed. Because of your suggestion, they searched for a clue Lieutenant Thott left on Enterprise. I just heard your idea paid off: they found an information chip, filled with Romulan data, a real breakthrough. So, Captain, join your team, rely on their unique abilities and add your own. You're a man of action..."

"And to do something and fight them, helps me," Jon finished his sentence. He knew it wasn't that simple, but Jon felt a little bit better. He wanted to believe Doctor Phlox was right.

"I couldn't have said it better," Phlox agreed and bared an enormous Denobulan smile.

You could cut through the tension in the room with a knife. Everyone involved in the investigation was present when Hoshi showed them the results of her examination of the information chip.

"It's a huge Romulan database containing information about every person in Starfleet, including the gardener of Starfleet Headquarters," Hoshi shared. She looked excited. For a linguist this was a discovery of a lifetime. "It gives us information about what Romulans know and what they think about us. Because of our knowledge of the Romulan language we developed, using the material we found on the Romulan ship in the Kanjani system, it wasn't hard to translate. There is so much data! I looked for a way to determine what was of importance to the author of the compilation, so I looked for the person with the most file pages."

Hoshi rearranged the files by volume and there it was. "T'Pol's file, complete with pictures of her youth, two separate files about her parents, Karik and T'Les, a link to a file about Soval, another to Commander Tucker-"

"T'Pols father's name is Karik?" Jon inquired. It daunted him. What exactly had Trip said during the meeting? "She has a family member by that name." Talk about telling the truth, but not revealing anything. Trip was spending too much time with Vulcans.

Hoshi nodded to his question but Malcolm had another. "Who's got the smallest file."

Hoshi searched again. "Senator Tenson. Only one page."

"That doesn't make sense," Phlox remarked. "From what I gathered she is one of the most powerful people in Starfleet."

"Again circumstantial evidence," Harris said. "If only Commander Tucker remembered who attacked him and if that attack was linked to Tenson, we would have a reason to bring her in for questioning."

"When Phlox was abducted by Klingons, Commander T'Pol did a mind-meld with me to retrieve my memory. I also remember Ambassador Soval doing the same to find out more about who bombed the Vulcan embassy," Hoshi suggested.

"That's a good idea," Jon said.

"Commander Tucker's memory has been erased," T'Pol refuted almost harshly. "So, having a mind-meld would not gain any information. It would be dangerous to access his memory of the events. He's suffered enough already from a telepathic attack."

"I understand your concern, Commander, but I have read about another similar case where a mind-meld was successful in providing information and didn't harm the person involved," Doctor Phlox brought up . "That attack was a year ago. The nanites in his brain are no longer functioning, almost gone completely, and the Commander is in perfect health. Besides, I could monitor you both during the meld."

"I don't mind a meld with T'Pol to find out the truth," Trip joined the discussion.

T'Pol, arms folded against her chest, gave him a stare of annoyance. The quiet withdrawn T'Pol Jon had seen in the past days was gone. Her stance reminded him so much of her first years on Enterprise: His first officer bickering with Trip. Jon couldn't help but to feel amused, almost giddy. Things were getting back to normal.

T'Pol made another objection, saying that she lacked the necessary skills for this kind of mind-meld.

"Trust me, T'Pol, I know a mind-meld with you will give us some answers. I'm sure," Trip pleaded with absolutely certainty. He then suggested a private room, though they would carry monitors, while Phlox recorded their vital signs from a nearby room.

Jon stayed with Phlox and stared at a large screen where a series of lines were charted on a grid. The doctor explained that the lines indicated that Trip and T'Pol were talking. Several coded green lines were fluctuating upward, while another set were plunging, but Phlox didn't pay attention to them. He started making affirming sounds when a blue line became active.

"What that's line?" Jon wanted to know all the details of this meld. Why had Trip been so sure?

"Those are theta waves; the meld has started," Phlox explained.

A short while after, he saw the two sets of green lines reverse, with those that had fallen earlier skyrocketing and their counterparts dropping. "Are those brain waves as well?" Jon asked.

Phlox looked bemused. "No, those are Commander Tucker's neuro-chemical levels." He pointed in a rapid series, and added in explanation, "Here his cortisol, adrenaline and testosterone levels spiked, but then dropped as his endorphin, seratonin, dopamine and oxytocin elevated. Apparently, Commander T'Pol let him relive some happy memories before going back in his mind to review the attack, a wise course of action. Those neurotransmitters protect the body and mind by helping to build up a resistance against stress."

Slowly, he saw T'Pol's neurotransmitter levels mirroring Trip's, as if they flowed back and forth. Once matched, the hormones indicating stress paradoxically rose before peaking and fading, followed by a rise in their soothing counterparts. After some time, the levels stabilized, though distinctly biased in favor of calm and happy, according to Phlox's description.

"The mind-meld is finished," Phlox told him.

Jon went to the room, where Trip and T'Pol were staying. Trip was sitting in a chair, leaning against the cushions. He looked exhausted, but also totally at peace. T'Pol rested on another chair, across from him.

Trip looked up. "It was Tenson," he said, "and Raijin."

Arling gathered a team, found out Tenson was staying at her house at Stenson beach and went to apprehend her for questioning. He emphasized that he would move with caution, because of her high status in Starfleet. He would report in an hour.

When he didn't, Harris got restless. They all got nervous when they tried and failed to communicate with Arling and his team.

"All the lines are dead, sir," Hoshi told him.

Harris was quiet for a moment, then looked at Jon and gave a stiff nod.

Jon gathered his own team: Harris, Malcolm with two security officers and T'Pol.

When they arrived at the house, it looked dark and deserted. They rang the bell, they knocked, but nobody answered. T'Pol's face became pensive before she said, "There is a sound in the house, much like moaning. I believe someone is wounded."

That was enough incentive for Harris to kick open the door, wood splintering around the latch. All of them palmed their phasers and walked slowly into the house.

It was Malcolm who saw the first person, laying on the floor. It was one of Arling's team. Malcolm checked his vital signs. "He's dead."

They found another body and close behind him, Arling. He was still alive, just barely. He held his hands to his chest, laying in a pool of his own blood.

"Archer," he whispered. Shivering, he continued, "She knew. She shot us before we had a chance. Tenson has to be the Romulan spy. Get her."

"Where is she going?"

Arling didn't answer. He turned to T'Pol and whispered, "Skil-tor ahkh svi'kashkau t'ausutra."

It sounded Vulcan and Jon asked T'Pol. "What did he say?"

T'Pol put her hands on Arling's in a gentler way than he'd ever seen a Vulcan do. Her eyes never left Arling's and, looking at him intensely, she translated, "The war is won in the minds of the people."

"Karik knew," Arling continued to say, breathing heavily.

T'Pol was still holding his hands, his red blood staining her fingers.

Arling stared at her, "Unification. Told Soval everything." His breathing became more and more erratic. "Tell my wife... tell my children..."

When help arrived to take away the bodies and inspect the house, Jon's communicator chirped.

"Captain, this is Admiral Black. We have located Tenson. She is heading to an unknown location aboard an Orion ship. Enterprise is going to launch right away and you are going to hunt her down."