Silver Lining
Hoshi entered engineering and found Trip hunched over a console looking at its display intensely. He didn't seem to notice too much of the bustling activity around him as dozens of Engineers hurried to and fro trying to get various subsystems on line, checked and realigned. She looked over his shoulder and saw that he was studying a transliteration of the Vulcan software.
She put her hand on the small of his back and he jumped a little before he realized who had touched him.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked once she had captured his attention.
"If I only wanted to see you, I'd drop by your quarters in the evening," he joked and she was happy to see him chuckle. "The view's much more entertaining then."
"You goof," she shot back with a smile and gave him a playful smack on his rear. "So what do you need me for if it isn't to admire my amazing body?"
"And your unrivaled humility," he added, shaking his head with a grin, before becoming serious again. "Actually, I'm reaching the end of my rope with this routine," he said and pointed at the screen. She bent over next to him to get a better look. "It's the control routine for the intermix ratio. I could be wrong, but I get the impression the thing is way too complex to work. During the last simulation the speed started fluctuating as soon as we hit six point two and I suspect that this piece of code can't keep up, causing the fluctuation."
"It's encrypted," Hoshi said and started tapping at the on-screen keyboard, before she remembered that she was poaching in his working zone. "May I?" she asked somewhat belatedly.
"That's what I asked you to come here for," he remarked, then smiled and grabbed a nearby chair for her.
"Thank you kind sir," she cooed and took a seat. "It's been a while since I had the chance to crack something. Too bad that it doesn't look like much of a challenge."
Her hands flew over the keyboard and soon the code appeared on the screen as a series of elegant Vulcan symbols.
"It's a Golic cipher," she analyzed. "No wonder this thing can't keep up. It's written in meta-instructions and encrypted on top of it. I bet T'Pol could manually control the intermix ratio quicker than this routine."
"Figures," he muttered.
"I thought this engine was straight out of a Suurok class?" she asked and looked up at him. "How come the Vulcans don't have any problems?"
"The ring nacelle design is much less prone to stability problems. They barely need to adjust the intermix ratio at all. That's the drawback of our twin nacelle design. We pack everything so tightly that we inevitably run into challenges at higher speeds."
"You know what, we'll just rewrite the whole thing in machine code," she offered. "All I need is the offset matrix for the correction and an op-code list if you have one."
"Have you ever written an ECU routine before?" he asked in surprise.
"No, but all the target correction routines of Buran's torpedo launchers are mine. Malcolm and I rewrote them all. They use the exact same principle and the interface to the rest of the ECU software is pretty clear cut. It's a simple set of RPC calls."
"You never cease to amaze me Hoshi. Never knew you were such a programming genius."
"It's just another language," she said and smilingly accepted his kiss on her cheek before watching him run off to get the matrix diagrams. It was good to see his enthusiasm return.
=/\=
"Now isn't that a cosy little scene?" Malcolm observed in a hushed voice as he and T'Pol came to stand near the entrance to engineering and saw Trip and Hoshi working on the Engine Control Unit. He had to swallow a chuckle when he imagined how he would have reacted to such a spectacle three or four years ago. His best friend and his wife – a fleet captain and a Lieutenant-Commander – were sitting side by side working on the engine software. Trip's arm rested on the backrest of her chair and in between discussing the particulars of their work they took little breaks to joke with each other. Even though he knew that Trip was not yet completely out of the woods, it was great to see that Hoshi managed to bring his brighter side to the fore again.
Back in the day when his rear end was still filled to the brim with a very rigid stick, he would have gone ballistic over the unprofessional familiarity on duty, but back then he didn't know what it meant to be with people who meant more to him than his own family. And back then he didn't have to force himself to go on doing a job he had lost the enthusiasm for.
Gone were the days when he would have thought that such behavior, especially if displayed by two senior officers, would lead to general sloppiness, if not even downright anarchy. It was obvious that the crews of Enterprise and Buran had put their 'First Quad' – the human contingent had adopted the Andorian nickname – under some peculiar form of 'puppy protection'. Nobody would even think about complaining to the higher-ups about the casual way they interacted with each other and nobody would take it as an invitation to drop their own professional conduct.
In fact, the opposite was the case. He had overheard talks in the mess halls that the relatively new crew of Buran took the closely knit friendship between the two couples as a sign of hope that being cooped up in close quarters for years could lead to much more amazing things than just cabin-fever and exhaustion.
In those thankfully distant days he also wouldn't even have dreamed about ever getting married, let alone to the most beautiful and enchanting creature in the world. His time-displaced alter ego certainly had never learned to get over his past and his messed up social skills. But then, that incarnation of Malcolm Reed had not had T'Pol as a close friend to help him with that.
"I guess the armory installation check can wait until tomorrow," he decided seeing that Trip was in the capable hands of Hoshi. "I could use a bit of supper. Care to tag along?"
He saw T'Pol's nod and they left toward the mess hall where Trip's mother ruled the roost'?.
=/\=
"Does it bother you that we've played a fair game of wife-swap lately?" Malcolm asked cutting another piece off the best chicken cordon bleu he had ever tasted. "We've spent more time with each other than you and Trip the last two weeks; well except for the nights of course."
He could see that she had to think about this for a while.
"I do not think this question really presents itself for me. If there was anything to be concerned about, my bond reflexes would let us know about it. I would actually prefer he would spend even more time with Hoshi, because whenever he does so he is making progress in his recovery. I believe doctor Phlox's remark that she would be a most capable counselor was meant more seriously than he made it appear to be."
"I guess the Andorian have a point when they call us a quad," he said pensively, squashing a potato. "Seriously, if they were to order you and Trip away tomorrow, I'd go potty. It'd be like losing half my family."
"Trip and I were most distressed when we had to leave you behind at Salem One," she admitted and he could see that her mind was not really on her salad right now.
"I'd always thought I'd live out my sorry life alone," he said, savoring another bit of his meal before continuing. "Did you know that my counterpart on Lorian's ship died a lonely bachelor not long after Trip?"
"Trip mentioned it during the first dinner we had in our quarters."
"Right, the double date on movie night," he remembered fondly. "You have no idea how much the two of you changed my life when you played match-makers between Hoshi and me. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that."
"No gratitude is required." She dismissed the sentiment. "It changed our lives in a positive way, too. I do not think Trip would have recovered as much as he has so far without Hoshi's and your friendship. He might appear gregarious, but he has few really close friends."
"Has he ever said anything about what he thinks of our idea of building our own space station when the war is over?" Malcolm asked acknowledging her previous statement with a nod.
"He finds it most compelling," T'Pol said. "But he has doubts that even the substantial monetary savings of all four of us would be sufficient to build anything more substantial than what he refers to as a 'floating shack'."
Malcolm chuckled at the mental image.
"Well, I've had an off-record talk with Commodore Falkner," he said. "We might be able to acquire substantial funding from Starfleet. Do you remember the first planet we visited? The one with the psychotropic pollen?"
"All too well," she said with a raised eyebrow. "You could say it was the first 'lover's quarrel' I had with Trip. Although we were not quite aware of being lovers yet."
Malcolm put his hand before his mouth to prevent spraying T'Pol with its contents as he struggled to fight the laugh long enough to swallow the half-chewed bite.
"I think you could make a fortune as a stand-up comedian," he managed between laughs and coughs.
She just looked at him with that raised brow. Nobody outside the 'First Quad' would know that it was her very personal form of giggling.
"Anyway." He returned to the original topic. "If we can find a way to eradicate whatever plants produce that pollen, Starfleet wants to use that planet as their very own version of Risa, sans the slags and criminals. They would probably be willing to help fund a space station in orbit around the planet if we manage to make it habitable without needing to inoculate people with Inaprovaline as it's only practicable for forty-eight hours."
"We would first need to find out what place the plants occupy in the planet's ecological system. I believe that genetically manipulating them to no longer produce Troposoline is preferably to eradicating them. I shall begin my research at an opportune time. Doctor Phlox would surely be amendable to helping me."
"So what do you think?" he asked. "Should we throw our hat into the ring?"
"Is it a competition?"
Malcolm had to chuckle. For all her time among humans, T'Pol still could be slightly naïve at times as far as human nature was concerned.
"T'Pol, Starfleet offers up to three billions of funding and a 200 square kilometer island on the surface as personal possession. Once the station is running you have to repay that, but at a zero interest rate and over a fifty year period. Everybody and his dog is jumping at a sweet deal like that."
"But which chances would the four of us have against big industrial conglomerates?"
"First of all – our standing with Starfleet," Malcolm explained. "With the way we kicked the Romulans' arses lately, the war will go on for four, perhaps five years before they get tired of being slaughtered. By that time we will have a ten year deep space service record. Two tours against the Xindi and the Romulans – presuming we are still alive, of course."
"Indeed."
"And on top of that we have already rebuilt and run two stations for them and in both cases we used significantly less monetary resources than what the bean-counters had estimated. That's a massive competitive advantage. The more they're spending, the more they love to save money."
"Your logic has merit. We shall apply for the contract. There is one question, however, that needs an answer. I doubt it is a coincidence that such an offer materializes just as we think about building a space station."
Malcolm smiled. She was good. No wonder she had worked as an operative.
"I might have pinched the idea... slightly," he replied dryly. "With a little help from Falks."
"Curious."
=/\=
Four days later...
The prisoner was led into the interrogation chamber. His haggard frame was clad in a gray prisoner's uniform, his hands shackled in front of his body. Soval fixed him with a steely glance. There was no doubt. He looked indeed like how his brother would most likely appear had he not died in one of the many border skirmishes with Andorian forces. At least that had been the assumption for all those years.
Soval doubted that any medical procedure could have duplicated the prominent scar on his temple that her father had received when fighting a wild sehlat during an infant T'Pol's naming ceremony. There was no denying it. This was T'Pol's male parent – and he was a Romulan.
"It is good to see you again, Soval," the prisoner said in flawless, unaccented Vulcan. "I see you did not content yourself with the post of an Ambassador. First Minister – I always knew you would ascend high in the hierarchy."
"Who are you?" Soval asked, tightly controlling his emotions. "What happened to my brother?"
"I am the brother you knew most of your life. V'Nur, son of V'Kar and T'Mir died in his youth. Do you remember his journey into the forge? His Rite of Tal'oth?"
"I do," Soval said, still fixing the man with a hard glare.
"He did not survive it. I tracked him while he was in the Forge. He chose a cave that was too small and was killed by the sand fire. I brought his corpse out of the forge. On board a cloaked ship I was surgically altered to resemble him by some aliens that the Empire had enslaved. I don't even remember their species."
"And you took my brother's place," Soval deduced.
"It was and still is the preferred method of infiltrating Vulcan. You will find it interesting that killing a Vulcan is considered the same crime as killing a Romulan on our world. That's why we developed the method of taking over the identities of Vulcans who died in the Forge."
"V'Las did not appear to have any problems with killing Vulcans," Soval disagreed, without showing his disgust about what he had heard so far.
"He killed my dear mate T'Les," the prisoner agreed with a quivering voice, his glance directed away from his interrogator for a moment and Soval was taken aback when he saw genuine pain and grief in the Romulan's eyes. "If this human – this Captain Archer – wouldn't have done so already, I would now wish to kill that veruul with my bare hands. V'Las – or Moravius as he was known on our world – and Valdore killed more Vulcans than the whole imperial fleet since its inception."
Soval started pacing along the wall, something he had never done before. He should be outraged about the lie that a large part of his life had been. The grief for the man who, as he now knew, was not even his true brother, had lasted a long time. Yet something about V'Nur – or Turius as he called himself – stirred curiosity in him.
"Why have you returned?" he asked, outwardly calm. "You surely know that both activity as a foreign agent and espionage still carry the death penalty on Vulcan."
"Both Tavrus and I are aware of the possible consequences. Our lives are not worth much in the Empire, especially now. Romulus, or more precisely its current Praetor, does not care about its heroes. They don't even deem us worthy of restoring our appearance. Yet we both value our home world and its people and we cannot sit idle while the Empire sends its youth into senseless battles we cannot win."
"You wish to defect?" Soval asked, an eyebrow raised in interest.
"We wish to do more than that," the prisoner said. "We are both willing to answer every question you might have, although a mind-meld would probably be a much more effective method."
"You are betraying your people." Soval stated the obvious. He wished to learn the man's motives.
"Yes we are," the prisoner agreed. "And that betrayal will cost thousands upon thousands of lives, but it will cost fewer fewer lives than letting the current regime go on with their foolish policy. We are willing to carry that stigma for the rest of our existence, however short it may end up being."
"I find it hard to believe that you would decide such a course of action without expecting something in return," Soval speculated. Rihanssu were not known for being unselfish.
"If you would find the information we can offer valuable enough to spare our lives, it would be all we wish to ask for. I, however, have an additional request," the prisoner said and it looked to Soval as if he was choosing his words most carefully.
"What would that request be?" he asked, waiting patiently for the prisoner to communicate his request.
"No matter if I meet my end shortly or by natural means, I would wish to visit my mate's burial site. And see my beloved daughter again." He paused, his gaze momentarily directed away from Soval. "If, of course, she agrees to it, which I suspect is far from certain."
"We might consider it," Soval answered curtly after a short time of contemplation. "But do not expect an answer in a short period of time." He pivoted and left the room without any further communication with the prisoner.
=/\=
Trip entered his private code to visit Hoshi for the 'mandatory' report about his therapy session with Phlox. The two couples had exchanged private codes so they could enter each others quarters without having to ring the door chime. They were installed in a fashion that they would not work when the door was locked. That prevented them from walking in on activities that were not meant for an audience.
When he entered the home of his friends, he found Hoshi on the floor doing sit-ups. As always she wore a dress made of the finest 'nothing at all'. He cackled mentally at the thought that Malcolm would probably suspect something was very wrong if he ever came home to find her wearing as much as underwear.
"Hi buddy," she said and quickly jumped up to her feet when he entered. The slender woman hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek, like she always did when she hadn't seen him during the day. "Would you mind setting up the table while I take a quick shower? Dinner is on us today."
"No problem," Trip acknowledged as she disappeared into the bathroom. He chuckled silently. Before he even reached the desk on which the folded table cloth had already been placed, he heard the water start running. That was the practical thing about her nudist streak – showers were really quick.
"To what do we owe the honor of being invited?" he asked loud enough for Hoshi to hear him over the noise of the shower. Since she had left the door open, she obviously expected to continue their conversation.
"Malcolm has some new information," he heard her reply from the shower. "I guess it must be something big, because he was in such a good mood."
"Now you've made me really curious," Trip said with a grin, aligning the table cloth. "Malcolm in a good mood? Hell, maybe the war's over."
"If only," Hoshi sighed. "What did Phlox say? You didn't forget your appointment, did you?"
"No mom, I didn't forget it," he replied with an amused eye-roll. "He's quite satisfied and was waxing lyrical about your counseling skills. He gave me a clean bill of health, actually, so I'm afraid you won't have to mother me anymore every day."
"Too bad," she said and Trip could hear a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Help me with my back?"
He walked into the bathroom taking the sponge from her. She had positioned herself at the entrance of the stall so he could lather up her back without getting wet.
"Don't worry, honey," he said while soaping her shoulders. "I won't be a stranger. It was me not talking to anyone that caused the problem. I'm not planning to do that mistake again."
"You better don't," she giggled and took a step forward so the water could rinse off the soap. Once she was convinced that all soap was gone, she turned off the water and collected her long hair in a pile on top of her head.
Having had to render the same assistance to Lizzie in their childhood, he knew that a large towel was needed for what he used to call the 'long-haired girl bathroom turban' and he handed her one. Once she had wrapped the towel around her hair, he grabbed another one to towel her back.
She happily smiled back at him over her shoulder.
He sat down on a chair, while Hoshi went through the contents of her chest of drawers and donned a pair of yoga pants and a shirt.
"You expecting someone?" he asked with a chuckle and saw her nod.
"T'Pau came to the station with your parents today. T'Pol and Malcolm have taken her to the spa and in about five minutes they'll be here."
"Let me guess," he speculated, grinning. "No naked dinners – Captain's orders from hubby."
He laughed out loud when she nodded in an exaggerated and mocked schoolgirl pout.
=/\=
"Don't let us burst from curiosity," Trip demanded impatiently. The dinner was done and Malcolm had started to serve beer for himself, Trip and Hoshi, while T'Pol and T'Pau preferred the orange juice the steward had brought them when collecting the dishes.
"After the design committee meeting, I had a little chat with Falks," Malcolm explained as he sat down. "We look good for the station plans. We definitely have the votes from Falks, Gardner and Zhukov."
Trip grinned at Hoshi. She looked as happy as a clam at high tide.
"What we need to do now is prepare a detailed proposal," Malcolm explained. "Trip, you'll be left out of it – you need to finish that ship, it's paramount to our plans that you finish it sooner rather than later. T'Pol and I will take care of it, maybe with some input from your dad."
"Care to elaborate, Captain?" Trip shot back, assuming formality to emphasize his seriousness.
"This is not supposed to be known by anyone not currently in the room." Malcolm explained with an especially stern look at T'Pau. She answered with a nod. "Two Romulans seem to have defected to Vulcan. They are still being grilled, but if this is legit, the head of the Romulan secret service has switched sides."
"Holy shit!" Trip exclaimed.
"Holy shit, indeed," Malcolm continued. "They have supplied the V'Shar with the alleged coordinates of the Romulan shipyards. That's what you'll be testing your weapons on once you're done building that behemoth."
"I don't even have a crew," Trip said. "I'm not going to sail into Romulan space with a bunch of rookies."
"If you ask me," Malcolm commented. "Take Hoshi as your XO. She has driven Buran as ranking officer almost as often as I have done as a captain. Hess could be ChiefEng – she's every bit as good as you. I'll give you Tholos as a tactical officer. That guy could put a round in a flea's arse from a light year away. Plant Travis at the helm and Phlox in sickbay and you have the best bridge crew in the galaxy."
"I'll never get that past Starfleet," Trip said, shaking his head.
"Let that be my problem, mate," Malcolm said. "You just make sure that thing out there is able to nuke a few Romulan shipyards as soon as possible."
"And you think nuking the shipyards will end the war?" Trip asked.
"Not really," Malcolm said. "But it will make it a lot less bloody. The Romulans are down to about thirty-five ships available for this part of the sector. That's thirty-five huge and powerful ships, mind you, but it's something we can deal with for a while."
"A stalemate," T'Pau noted.
"Hopefully long enough for us to pump out four or five more of these," Malcolm confirmed, pointing over his shoulder at the huge hull of the Molotok.
"Do they really believe that the Romulans have only a handful of ships?" Trip said, shaking his head again in doubt. "They wouldn't be that stupid, would they?"
"No, they actually have close to two hundred of these bloody birds of prey and about forty more warbirds. Too bad for the bastards that the Klingons thought it was a good time to help themselves to some Romulan space."
"I never thought I'd be rooting for those ugly guys," Hoshi added and shoved her mug over to Malcolm for a refill.
"True," Malcolm said, refilling Hoshi's and Trip's mugs. "The Vulcans reckon the Rommies need about two to three years to deal with the Klingons. If we haven't got a whole fleet of Suuroks, Kumaris and Molotoks by then, we better start learning to speak Romulan."
"And before that we make sure they don't improve their odds," Trip said, realizing why they wanted to attack the Romulan shipyards so quickly.
"Once their shipyards are gone, we'll probably have the most sedate war in history on our hands for a while," Malcolm continued as he returned to the table. "They can't afford to lose more ships until they've dealt with the Kingons. That mean's we won't see much Romulan metal in our space for quite a while. During that time you and your engineering crews will pump out ships, while T'Pol and I make sure we win that station contract."
"I will make sure that Vulcan argues in your favor," T'Pau added and Trip saw that she was confused when he and Malcolm started laughing.
"You've given her the details about the deal, haven't you?" he half stated, half asked.
"Yep; two hundred square kilometres of subtropical landmass with lots of water but without a dress code – hook, line, and sinker," Malcolm cackled, while both Hoshi and T'Pau blushed slightly.
=/\=
Two months later, Salem One's conference room
Jon looked at the assembly of officers around him and noticed that he and Erika were the only humans in attendance. Lorian was half-human, but all others were aliens. Just three years ago such a meeting would have been close to unthinkable. The oldest of the other thirty-one attendees were four Vulcan captains (from the Sh'Ran, the Ni'Var, the Ti'Mur and the Kir'Shara – the newest addition to the fleet). Twenty-four Andorians, all but Shran commanding a Kumari class cruiser, Lorian, Erika and himself completed the meeting.
"The Coalition Command Center has sent the orders for Operation "Warrior's Prayer". The mission will be conducted under command of Fleet Captain Charles Anthony Tucker III, who will arrive in five days aboard the first jointly designed coalition war ship, the Molotok.
"What a ship!" one of the Andorian Captains said in obvious amazement after Jon had put up an image of the completed ship which would launch about in about two hours if he had calculated Earth time correctly.
"It is indeed an impressive design," Sopek agreed, much more calmly than his blue-skinned colleague. "What can you tell us about it, Commodore?"
"It's the best of all races," Jon explained. "Vulcan sensors, Tellarite alloys, Human nacelle design and Andorian weapons. Crew complement of just over two hundred, twenty-two phaser banks, twelve phaser cannons and thirty torpedo launchers – twenty forward, ten aft. This, ladies and gentlemen, is our ticket to winning this war."
"Indeed impressive," Sopek repeated. "But even such a powerful design will be needed in numbers."
"Tucker and his team built the thing in three and a half months instead of the six that were projected. Vulcan is currently re-tooling the T'Kuth shipyards to start building Molotok class ships, and if your mission is successful, it'll buy us at least a year; we could build ten if not more of them in that time."
"What is our mission?" one of the Andorians – Captain Akaani, if he remembered correctly – asked.
Jon called up the star chart on the view screen.
"The Romulans are currently trapped in a war on two fronts – against us and against the Klingons," he explained, indicating the approximate outline of the Romulan-Klingon border. Their shipyards are located here, in the Alpha Onias system. The Vulcans report that they are currently busy pushing out more warships and it's your task to make sure the poor guys don't work too hard."
Obvious amusement spread among the Andorians.
=/\=
Trip and Hoshi were standing in front of the shuttle. Each of them was holding their other half tightly in their arms. He could easily tell that T'Pol was apprehensive about letting him go, and Malcolm's nervous scowl made it clear that he wasn't doing much better in regards to Hoshi, but duty called, so there was nothing they could do. This was the downside of their predicament. All four of them would want to quit sooner rather than later, but they couldn't bring themselves to abandon their fellow Starfleet comrades in time of war.
"Keep an eye on Hoshi for me," Malcolm requested and Trip returned the unexpected hug from his friend. He could see T'Pol and Hoshi hug each other, too.
"We'll be back, as soon as the job's done," Trip promised and stepped out of Malcolm's embrace. He turned to take Hoshi's hand and helped her enter the shuttle.
He piloted the craft away from Buran towards the huge shape of Molotok. It was time to prove that his ship could deliver on its promises.