A/N: Well, after Jon's apology, and T'Pol's announcement at the end of that last chapter, this chapter sees Trip trying to prepare himself for when they catch Trena'l's ship.

Through my thoroughly warped imagination, he's also remembering more of what he saw, and did, and felt, while he was aboard. Yes, I think my plot bunnies were in an especially evil mood that day!

Enjoy!

Violations

Chapter Thirteen - Beneath The Surface

If there was anyone born to be out here, exploring the stars, Jon thought – yes, that person would always be Trip. Standing beside his window, he was as captivated by them now as he'd always been.

Of course, there were other reasons for him to be standing there, so quietly. So lost in thoughts, and memories. Silent apprehension for what the coming hours might bring.

The time.

12:18.

Just under an hour to go now, until the next stage in his recovery could begin. And despite the determination he'd heard in his friend's voice, when that call had come through –

"I'm – I'm okay, Jon… really, I'm fine…"

– that tiny hesitation, and the shadows he'd see flit through Trip's eyes had, as always, betrayed him.

Recognizing that as the moment for tactful silence, and even greater support, Jon had just nodded. Squeezed his shoulder, offered him quiet words of encouragement, before giving him the space he needed to prove his own convictions.

That had been an hour ago, and Trip had barely moved from that spot beside his window. He hadn't said much either. Or, to Jon's quiet concern, eaten much from that tray of toast and eggs. That would always set Jon's protective instincts on edge. When Trip Tucker lost his appetite, you knew something pretty serious lay behind it.

He still loved his coffee, though, smiling his thanks for the latest mugful that Jon now passed to him. The hand that took its now customary place on his left shoulder was appreciated the same way – especially when he finished chewing his lower lip, and finally revealed what he was thinking.

"An' what you said before, about them bein' on the run… so their own people want 'em too?"

It was the most he'd said for almost twenty minutes. And, again, a trace of uncertainty had tinged his voice. Luckily, those twenty minutes had given Jon plenty of time to anticipate this question, and how to deal with the silent anxiety behind it.

"Yes, Trip, they do. From what Governor Sha'len told me, there's… well, several charges levied against them. And they've been on the run for quite some time, so... well, the Xyrillian Council are as determined to find them as we are."

Sipping his coffee, Trip just nodded. Took a deep breath. And faced another of those slowly surfacing fears.

"So if we do catch 'em, there could be a trial. An' Starfleet's agreed to take it that far?"

He'd tried so bravely to talk his way past it, but Jon had still picked up on that single, giveaway word. It was understood, and then corrected, through a gentle smile, and a rallying squeeze on his shoulder.

"When we catch them, Trip… yes, they'll stand trial. Not just by Governor Sha'len's orders, but Starfleet's too."

Staring back at the stars, Trip just nodded. Quietly watching him, Jon felt a surge of silent anger. No-one in the world deserved to go through this, and when he found the bastards who'd caused him such pain and torment – well, he couldn't make their Government any promises that there'd be much of them left to prosecute.

Some of that anger had clearly transferred from his hand to Trip's shoulder, since he now felt it flinch. Rubbing it gently away, Jon offered a smile of apology as he, too, lost himself in thought and space. Whether this reached a Xyrillian tribunal or not, he now realized, it didn't make any difference.

If, as Trip had said, he really wanted to put this behind him, then he still had so much of it to talk out. And facing that court, reliving his ordeal, would be that little bit easier if he could go through it beforehand, with someone he felt comfortable with. Someone he completely trusted.

Someone who still silently marvelled at his bravery. His strength. And his astonishing capacity to forgive that same 'someone' who still felt he didn't deserve it.

"Trip, we know now that you were drugged, so you couldn't resist, or fight back," he said at last, gently turning Trip around to face him, so that he could see the strength and support he was trying to give him. "Phlox found traces in your earlier scans, that we can still use as evidence. If it gets that far."

Ah. That word again. So tiny and so mundane, but a word that now carried so much significance. Not so much for him, but the friend whose eyes already told him he knew what was coming next.

"But if you feel up to it, Trip… if you can remember anything, that you haven't told me already…"

"…eels…"

Jon stared at that. Well, yes – that qualified. Trip's report hadn't mentioned anything about alien fish. A little voice was telling him this was important, though, long before Trip continued to clue him in.

"There – There were these things, these big… well, eels, swimmin' in this huge tank of water."

Frowning at a maddening niggle in his mind, Trip then shook his head, running a hand across his eyes. That was all Jon needed to see, for his big brother instincts to bypass impulse, and go straight to warp.

"Trip, if it's too soon to do this, we can do it later… or another time, or…"

Such concern was a big brother's right, of course. Just as it was a little brother's to stubbornly ignore it. And Trip had that trait down to a fine art.

"No, it's – it's okay, Jon, I'm fine… just rememberin' more of it… somethin' that doesn't fit…"

Still frowning, Trip then looked up again, his eyes lighting up in relief that another piece of a maddening jigsaw had fallen into place.

"The - The cubes! The cubes she gave me, when I woke up. Yeah, that's it. She told me they were the closest thing they could get to synthesizin' water, and…"

That excited observation was left unfinished, though, as a more puzzling thought took its place.

"See, that's what I don't get here. I - I mean, I know those eel things coulda been swimmin' in somethin' else, but… all that technology, Jon… the holodeck, their cloakin' ability… yet they couldn't make water?"

Jon was frowning too now, at answers that, it thankfully seemed, Trip didn't yet share with him. They'd come eventually, of course. When he was ready to face them, he would make the connection.

But, for now, Jon kept to his own, horrified thoughts of what Trip had just told him, and how it related to Trenal's outlawed 'research.'

If, as they'd claimed, they couldn't make one of life's most basic properties, then he had to wonder. Had they been eels, swimming in that tank? Or, as his instincts were telling him, had they been something else? Something unthinkably else?