Chapter 8
It was a blip, a spectre appearing fleetingly on their scans before it fizzled out just as quickly as it had been detected. Trip had been in Engineering for the past hour and was still no closer to finding the cause of the power irregularity. He could almost hear his father's voice inside his head. The elder Tucker would always console his son whenever there was a stubborn engine issue they were dealing with. "If you don't know what the problem is, start by figuring out what it isn't," his father would say. It was good advice.
Trip had painstakingly run a full diagnostic on several of the Enterprise's systems, but some of them would not nearly be completed before the conference. He had left detailed instructions for Kelby and asked him to check in with him while he was gone with an update. Still, he had a feeling of unease niggling at the back of his mind. Something unusual was at play, he just couldn't put his finger on it. The thought troubled him, but he took solace in the knowledge that at least his uniform was still in pristine condition for once. This would afford him some extra time to make a quick detour. Hastily, he took long strides to his quarters hoping that T'Pol would keep out of his head for the time being. He didn't need to hear her thoughts to know what she would think about his plans.
Entering his quarters, the doors closed briskly behind him. He was alone, but he swore it still smelled like her in the room, a mixture of her meditation candle and citrus blossom. Forcing the swirl of emotions down that inhaling her scent had triggered, he hoped like hell the source of those feelings was not attuned to his actions at the moment. Gingerly, as if avoiding waking a sleeping baby, he gently switched on the screen to his computer and noted with ambivalence he had a new message. He hoped it was the response he had been waiting for.
Commander Tucker, it is agreeable to hear from you again. In response to your query, Koss' whereabouts have been confirmed on Vulcan where he is currently residing and employed as an architect rebuilding the Earth Embassy. Furthermore, Koss has not been off-planet and my sources indicate he is not undergoing any…medical issues at the present time.
Trip smirked. Vulcans did not talk of such private matters openly especially with an off-worlder such as himself and Ambassador Soval was no exception, despite their newly found respect for one another.
Soval continued, Therefore the odds that Koss had contacted your ship from a location on Earth are highly improbable and likely impossible. If someone did indeed send a message such as you indicated, this would be cause for concern. I am sure you are aware there are factions on Vulcan that hold Enterprise, specifically T"Pol, responsible for the shift in power and ideology currently sweeping Vulcan following the discovery of the Kir'Shara. There are those who would seek to punish her. I will be at the conference today should you wish to speak further about your unique situation.
Tucker's mind processed what Soval had divulged. He listened to the message again carefully. Koss was on Vulcan. Koss was not undergoing Pon Farr. His mind churned, working the puzzle as if it were a cipher. If Koss hadn't written the message, then who had? Could Koss have written the message and somehow eluded Vulcan intelligence? Trip acknowledged internally that Soval's information was likely to be accurate, but something was off here and he was going to find some answers once and for all. He took a quick glance at the time. They could make it if they hurried. He depressed the intercom key decisively.
"Tucker to Reed."
The ever-efficient Malcom Reed's formal, clipped tone, resonated within his quarters. The two men were polar opposites, yet they had managed to form a friendship that could be depended upon, however unlikely it may have seemed. At least Tucker was hoping that was the case at the moment.
"Reed here."
Wasting no time, Trip went straight to the point, "Malcom, can you meet me in the transporter room as soon as possible? I have to check something out downtown before the conference and I can use some extra muscle if things take a left turn. Oh and Malcom? Bring a phase pistol just in case."
"In case of what?" the tactical officer replied. Malcom Reed seldom went anywhere without a phase pistol. He knew from experience, one would never know when it would come in handy. Still the request from his friend was irregular.
"What is this about, may I ask?"
It's a personal matter. I'll explain when I see you. Tucker out."
Well, that answered nothing, Reed mused in the Armory. He wondered ruefully what Trip had mixed himself up in this time. He straightened his uniform collar and headed for the transporter room. Whatever it was, if his friend needed him, he would be there.
T'Pol found herself studying the angular face of her former husband on the view screen, an irrepressible slow burn of the rage she had been harboring for the man bubbled to the surface. It took every ounce of her self-discipline to refrain from slamming her fists into the display. She calmed herself as the message loaded and began to play.
T'Pol, I hope you are well. I admit that it was unexpected to receive your message. As to your question regarding my whereabouts and whether I had messaged you, I confess, I am perplexed. I have been on Vulcan since we last spoke. I was under the assumption that we had severed our ties. I was certain that was your wish and so I did not contact you, so I do not understand the question. In fact–
He hesitated. I am due to marry again shortly, but if there is some way I can be of assistance, you may reach me at my parents' home. Live Long and Prosper, T'Pol.
He was lucid. He was much calmer than she felt at the moment. He was to be remarried. The thoughts flooded her senses one right after the other, making it difficult for her to maintain her composure. If Koss were to be believed at face value, he had not composed that message, but then who had and to what end? She was going to find out, but first, she would speak with Trip.
Ensign Masaro leaned back in his chair, rocking languidly with a serpentine air, like a python eyeing his unaware prey. A sinister gleam sparkled in his eye. He pulled the earpiece from his ear and began the compilation of the recent recordings. He had routed the output from the surveillance bugs he had planted in his two senior officers' quarters to his own in order to monitor them more covertly and to transfer the data to transmit it to Paxton on Moonbase Alpha undisturbed, but with his questionable technical abilities, he had inadvertently created an energy spike in Engineering. Truth be told Masaro had barely made it through Starfleet Academy. He was a lousy engineer and everyone knew it–hell, he knew it himself. If it weren't for his connections to Terra Prime, he would never have been assigned to Starfleet's flagship vessel, a plant to gather intelligence; a disruptor ready to be activated at will by the organization. Someone high-up from within had intervened to keep him there. Someone whose identity Masaro himself was not even privy to. All he knew was that if he promised to carry out the mission he would be rewarded heavily and he was about to be paid in dividends. He smiled as he compressed the data for transmission, but then his smile faded. He was not sure whether or not he would be able to continue the transmissions if his boss got any closer to figuring out where they were coming from. Masaro knew he couldn't risk being discovered when he was so close to realizing his mission. Damn Tucker and his determination and skill. What came so difficult for Masaro seemed to be effortless for the Chief Engineer. It would not take long for him determine the source of the spike. Commander Tucker may have bad taste in women, but he was indisputably the most gifted Engineer Starfleet had. For a moment, a twinge of regret crossed his conscience. Tucker had done his best to mentor him and had always been fair to him, although he often tried to have him transferred. Masaro could hardly blame him for that. He was almost sorry he was about to ruin the man, but Tucker was simply collateral damage. The mission was more important: A pure Earth, unsoiled by the pollution of the off-worlders. That was the goal and they were so close. He keyed in the command to transmit the encrypted data and tipped off the warehouse crew that Tucker, not T'Pol was on the way and furthermore, he wasn't alone. He would be bringing back-up in the form of Lieutenant Reed. He drew in a deep breath and clicked 'send.' It was almost showtime.
T'Pol entered the turbolift and was gratified to see she was alone. In the privacy of the lift, she might be able to connect with Trip and inform him that the threat from Koss appeared to be neutralized.
Trip. There is an urgent matter we must discuss concerning Koss.
There was no response. Very well. If he wouldn't communicate with her within the bond, she would go to him. She would attempt to locate him first in Engineering. It was his domain, which might set him at ease. When she was recovering in sickbay after injuring her legs, she had sought out various authoritative texts pertaining to human relationships. Being that she was bonded to a human male, it seemed logical to learn all she could about human relationship dynamics, which to T'Pol were quite the contrast from typical Vulcan bondmate dynamics. During her research, she stumbled upon a text with a curious title that purportedly sold 50 million copies. She surmised from the title that the premise of the book involved males and females originating from planets in the Sol system. The dubious claims made for a strange hypothesis considering Mars and Venus both lacked the requisite parameters needed for human life to thrive. Despite her initial misgivings about reading the book, she obtained a good deal of insight that might prove to be beneficial. For example, during times of relationship discord, the human male was said to retreat into his "cave" to solve problems. T'Pol suspected that if Trip indeed had some kind of metaphorical cave, it would definitely be located in Engineering, so when she could not find him there, she was surprised. She turned to the bond she had rendered in stasis since their last discussion, nonplussed to find a rudimentary wall erected by Trip. It wasn't impenetrable, but he had made the attempt. He had every right to his privacy and she had done the same to him on more than one occasion, much to his chagrin. She had even related that she would endeavor to teach him how to do so, but the thought of him attempting to shut her out of his own volition was disquieting. What didn't he want her to know? It was essential to reach him. This was too important to wait. Without probing too deeply, she was able to visualize her beloved's actions as she perceived them in real-time. Trip was at the warehouse. Trip was with Lieutenant Reed. He had taken the matter into his own hands and endangered himself, despite her efforts to protect him. Unacceptable. Her fear surging, she made a beeline to the transporter room.
Trip Tucker had a headache. He rubbed his temples as the sensation of tightness continued to strengthen its vicelike grip on his head. They had already been here far too long for his liking. The conference was fast approaching. For a split second, he contemplated whether Captain Archer would bust them both down to Crewman if they were late. Malcom continued to assess the perimeter of the dilapidated building, methodically checking for biosigns or power signatures that would indicate weaponry inside.
"Damn it, Malcom! Will you hurry up? We haven't got much time." To make matters worse, he felt like a cement truck had parked and unloaded in his head.
"Patience, Commander," Reed soothed, as he continued his scans. Whatever this was about had his friend in knots. "This should only be a few minutes more. So, are you going to tell me what we are doing here? Hopefully we won't both be court-martialed afterwards or maybe it's better that I don't know. Plausible deniability and all." The lithe man prattled on as he half-teased his friend.
Tucker sighed heavily. "T'Pol received a message from her ex-husband demanding she meet him here."
Reed frowned at this information. Whatever was between Trip and T'Pol, anything that would necessitate a meeting in a venue such as this one could not be good.
"Koss? And how is this your concern?"
Malcom knew Trip harbored feelings for their Vulcan first officer as much as he denied it.
Trip shot him a warning look. "Stop. I've told you we're just friends. I contacted Ambassador Soval who did a little research. Koss is not on Earth. He's on Vulcan right now. He couldn't have sent the message. Something doesn't add up here."
"Then why not report it? Why not come down here with the authorities with T'Pol?"
"Look, it's complicated. Trust me, this is the only way." His head was throbbing now and he finally began to make out the cause through the dense haze. T'Pol. She knew he was here. They'd need to speed things up.
As if prescient, the handheld scanner whirred to life. The scan was complete.
Reed glanced at the readings. "No one appears to be home, but let's take a look."
As the pair of them prepared to enter the building, a familiar hum followed by dancing crystals of light appeared and Commander T'Pol materialized. Of course, it was her. If looks could kill. Reed turned around to give the two "friends" privacy.
"Commander. Lieutenant. This is an unscheduled use of the transporter." She regarded them sternly.
"I logged the usage and the Captain said we could spend a little time planetside, but I could say the same for you. Besides, the Shuttlepod is acting up and I didn't want to risk spending even another minute trapped in that tin can with him," Trip pointed out, gesturing to Malcom, who always marveled at his friend's defiance when it came to their Vulcan first officer. No one would ever be able to push her buttons the way Trip did and if Malcom didn't know better, under normal circumstances, she seemed to enjoy it. Evidently, this was not one of those times though. Malcom winced slightly at the thought. Hell hath no fury indeed.
T'Pol's eyes met Trip's sharply, but she stopped short of verbalizing her thoughts. Lieutenant Reed's presence was a complication preventing her from responding with all the depth this conversation would require. She turned inward to the bond and suddenly they were in the white space. The benefits of being a bonded pair; they could communicate many thoughts in half the time it would have taken to verbalize them.
I thought I made it clear I was handling this situation, she projected emphatically, each word precisely articulated despite the fact that her lips were not moving.
In the bond, she could speak freely and he had no problem responding in kind.
And I thought I made it clear I wanted to be involved.
Trip broke the outward silence first. "Koss is on Vulcan. He isn't on Earth."
T'Pol's eyes bored through his. "I am well aware of that fact. I contacted him myself."
So she had contacted Koss without him? He had not expected this turn of events. The wave of jealousy swept over him despite his rational mind knowing better and sent him reeling emotionally. His cheeks felt hot, the stinging, heated sensation like a sunburn. He used all his self-control to keep the intrusive emotion within the boundaries of his own consciousness and refrained with all his might from commenting on it, but despite his best efforts, it was too late. The invasive thoughts had leaked through the crack in the dam. Free from its shackles, it raised itself to its full height and made itself known. He may not have voiced it, but she knew all the same.
Trip, we have been over this. There was never anything between Koss and me. There is no reason for jealousy.
So let me get this straight. I stay up all night in engineering? That's bond material. But you speaking to your ex-husband? No need to tell me whatsoever?
Trip, you know my arrangement with Koss was for the sole purpose of restoring my mother's position–nothing more. This jealousy is illogical.
Cursing his mind for betraying him, he felt himself be pulled deeper into the argument, despite himself.
Illogical? You've got to be kidding me. Of course you know how I feel, but I never get to know how you feel. You were on Vulcan for weeks after you married this guy and you still won't tell me what happened while you were there. I may be illogical, but I'm not a fool. There is something you're not saying.
T'Pol stiffened.
I told you already that I was on Mount Seleya.
I know what you told me. The question is why?
Now is not the right time to rehash this.
Her frustration with him was palpable. He could feel the intensity between them ratcheting, but no sooner than he had detected it, she clamped down on the bond and the white space faded to nothingness. Of course, she could withdraw from the bond whenever it suited her, while he was an open book, he thought bitterly. As much as he hated to admit it, she was correct. They did not have time for this. He cleared his throat. It was probably for the best to stop the internal repartee in front of Malcom anyway lest he begin to suspect something. Even if they could communicate quickly in the bond space and just a moment had passed, he had to be wondering why no one was speaking. "Well, we're here. Might as well have a look."
"Agreed," she responded perfunctorily, externally anyway. Internally, it was another matter entirely.
Malcom tried the door which oddly enough was unlocked. The three crewmates cautiously walked into the warehouse. Stripes of sunlight filtered through the gaps in the rusty sheet metal structure that lined the walls. It was sufficient lighting to see that the warehouse was empty except for a rickety chair in the center of the room with a backpack on the floor next to it. They walked toward it. An extinguished cigarette lay smouldering on the floor, its wraith-ike tendrils of smoke rising from the floor until they disappeared in midair. Someone had been here recently.
"I'll search the building* Malcom offered. He didn't like the look of this place.
Trip nodded. "Be alert. Stay in touch."
Malcom assented and moved to scour the perimeter. Wordlessly, Trip picked up the bag and studied it briefly. It was forest green in color and it's seams were well-worn. Embroidered on the zippered pocket on the front of the bag was a pair of letters stitched in heavy, red thread that was fraying on the ends. Trip rubbed his fingers over them. TP. Turning the bag upside down, he emptied its contents on the floor. Thick, braided rope, zip ties, duct tape descended into a haphazard heap on the floor. A glittering vial caught the sunlight amidst the pile and reflected into Trip's face, the quick fleeting be of light catching his attention. He bent down to get a closer look and that's when he saw it; A hypospray. T'Pol wordlessly took out her scanner and began the task of analyzing.
"Well? Anything?" Trip queried as he attempted to meet her gaze.
"Tetramyzol. It's a sedative developed on Vulcan. Quite an effective dose too. This would be enough to sedate any Vulcan and slow their brain processes."
"Not just any Vulcan. Why do I get the feeling this was meant for you?" He felt his blood chill inside him, his mind spinning. Any sliver of doubt that might still exist in his mind that this was all some kind of nefarious plot, conjured to ensnare his bondmate eroded away.
Logically, T'Pol had to agree. Was this meant for her? Most likely. But if Koss was not responsible, who was?
Just then, the footfalls of Lieutenant Reed began increasing in volume. "Looks like whoever it was got away. The building is clear, but they couldn't have gone too far. We need to report this to law enforcement," he suggested, slightly breathless from casing the perimeter so quickly.
"No!" T'Pol called out, harsher than she realized. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she spoke slowly. "We don't know who or what we are dealing with. Until we do, it is best to investigate this internally. With our recent prominence in the media, a failure to do so may result in negative exposure for Starfleet..." She faltered, placing an uncharacteristic beat between words that seemed to stretch to an impossible distance.
And for us.
Trip nodded. He understood perfectly. If Starfleet began asking questions, how long would be before they figured about them?
Before Reed could detect any irregularities in her communication pattern, she had continued.
"With a conference of this importance to Starfleet, they will not appreciate any distractions."
"I'd hardly classify this as a distraction. This reeks of an attempted abduction and heaven only knows what else," Reed interjected skeptically. From his employ at Section 31, he knew the signs of foul play all too well.
"The conference is due to begin in 30 minutes. Captain Archer has ordered us to be in attendance," she redirected.
Reed couldn't argue with that logic.
Reed looked at Trip for confirmation, hoping not to be caught between his two senior officers as he knew from experience things could get ugly. He was surprised when Trip merely nodded and pointed around the warehouse in a circular motion. "Take scans and I'll collect the evidence. We have to get to the conference. We will deal with this after."
"Aye, sir." Reed didn't want to imagine Captain Archer's reaction if they were late.
Without touching anything, Trip carefully used his spanner to deposit the paraphernalia, back into the backpack.
When they were ready to leave, Trip stood protectively next to T'Pol. He was not about to let her out of his sight. Not with everything they had discovered. They closed the door to the warehouse and the three made their way to the conference briskly. Starfleet headquarters were strangely not far from here. It would be a short walk, but the tension certainlyade it feels a lot longer. Reed marveled at the uncharacteristic silence between his two senior officers, but he was not about to disturb the uneasy truce. Instead he focused on the items they had gathered. They should be running a forensic analysis on them, but he would need the ship"s computers for that and right now, there was a conference to attend.
They arrived at Starfleet Command with a few minutes to spare. The crew had not spent much time on Earth after the Xindi attack and Trip hardly at all. With Lizzie's death and his parents living in a new place entirely, he did not feel tethered to Earth as his home any longer.. Wherever Enterprise was–no, wherever she was if he was being honest, that was home. Having been away for so long, he was not prepared for what he saw. Scores of people lined the streets outside the headquarters. A mélange of handheld signs dotted the vista, stretching back to the horizon.
Trip squinted and made a few out. "Thank you heroes" was scrawled on a poster with bold black letters and a dozen more like that swung in the breeze as they perched above those that wielded them. Some of them even had the crew's picture on them. A young woman flagged them down, reaching across the barriers. "Charles! Charles! Can I have your autograph?" She yelled with excitement. Trip smiled. It was nice to be appreciated for all they had done and all they had lost. He scrawled his signature on a photograph of him the woman had thrust into his hands eagerly. As he turned to go, he noticed she had also slipped her contact information into his hand with a heart scrawled around it. His face flushed in embarrassment. He didn't have to turn around to know that he was not the only one visited by jealousy today. As they continued to make their way to the entrance, they noticed the tone of the signs had changed in a section of the crowd.
Angry, red-faced men and women spewed xenophobic rhetoric as they quickened their pace. The vitriol was palpable. Signs filled with ugly, hateful messages littered the vista. No aliens need apply! Trip was appalled by humanity. Sometimes, it was as if they had never evolved. A chant rose up from that section of the crowd. "Go home!" The heated jeer of enmity surged from their lips. Suddenly a faceless man in the crowded shouted something incomprehensible and hurled a glass bottle at them, splintering less than a foot from T'Pol's and fracturing into jagged pieces. "Go home, you Vulcan bitch!" The man advanced to the front of the barricade, let out a barrage of expletives and violently spit at T'Pol. Filled with murderous rage, Trip wheeled around ready to respond to the man, his fists clenched, on a singular mission to seek and destroy. He began to advance on the piece of human refuse to ensure with his own two hands that not one more foul word would spew from this bastard's mouth. Just as he was about to lunge, Malcom threw his arms about his friend, restraining him from behind. "Not worth it, Commander! Let's move along." Tucker struggled, trying to free himself when Malcom shouted, "Trip! Let's go." As if snapped out of a trance, Trip blinked his eyes and took a deep breath. He nodded slowly. Before he could change his mind or anything else could happen, Malcom ushered him through the gates in front of the building.
"There's been a rise in xenophobic sentiment since the attack," Malcom said shaking his head as they entered the security checkpoint at the entrance of the complex." Are you alright, Commander?" He queried, as he addressed T'Pol.
Unflappably, she faced the two men. "I am unharmed." Trip could feel that she was shaken, despite her tone indicating otherwise. The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. Anyone else would have missed it, but he had learned her tells long ago
Fighting every impulse in his body to take her into his arms and hold her, he settled for dangling his hand surreptitiously near hers. The invitation was not lost on her. She extended a finger ever so slightly and they touched for a brief instant. The circuit between them connected immediately and what little visible tension he observed a few moments before began to evaporate. Subconsciously, their breathing synchronized, a duet realized just by the two of them.
Ensign Hoshi Sato spotted them first from across the room and quickly weaved her way through the crowd to them.
"Thank goodness you're here," she addressed her shipmates. "The conference is about to begin and Captain Archer has been occupied by the delegates. They're very interested to hear about our time in the Expanse.
"None of this would have been possible if it wasn't for your work on the translators, Ensign." T'Pol praised and made a mental note to recommend a commendation for the Communications officer. She had earned it.
"Thank you, Commander. It's been an honor to work on a project of this importance. Let's get you to your places. You're lucky Captain Archer hasn't noticed your absence yet." As she ushered them to their position, Trip lost contact with T'Pol's hand and he felt her absence acutely. He wondered silently if she could feel it too. They had so much to resolve. He couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find balance, but it seemed like the universe was conspiring against them and this bond was only making things even more complicated. They would have to come to some kind of resolution, but more importantly, they would need to investigate all they had learned at the warehouse, but this would have to wait until after the Minister's speech. Trip scanned the crowd. Evidently, it was standing room only. With dread, Trip saw Minister Nathan Samuels begin to make his way to the podium. The man was bad enough one on one. Now someone had given him a microphone, translator, and a captive audience, the worst case scenario for a narcissistic hack. Trip could only hope that his remarks would be brief. He and T'Pol had so much to work through.
The cacophony of Human, Tellarite, Andorian, Vulcan, and Coridanite voices diminished as Samuels stepped up to the microphone to deliver the opening remarks. Hoshi surveyed the audience and observed that each person in attendance had a translator fitted above their hearts–translators that she had programmed personally, with the new standard she had developed. Her heart was bursting with pride. Hoshi had a feeling this would be a pivotal moment for the crew. It was as if they were invited to witness a living piece of history in the making and she felt fortunate to play her small part. Hoshi was certain she would never forget this moment and she would be correct, although not for the reasons she thought. Not by a longshot.
Author's note: Happy belated New Year to all! It's been awhile between updates, so I appreciate you sticking with this story. It's interesting to see what your theories have been and some have been correct! One thing I wanted to address was the criticism pertaining to Masaro's ineptitude. An explanation will be forthcoming, but I can't divulge too much at the moment.
