NX-01 Enterprise
Earth orbit
Jan 23, 2155
T'Pol held Trip's hand tightly, one hand on his, the other clutching her IDIC symbol to her chin. It was the same artifact her mother had sent to her so many months ago, with a built-in hologram showing the path through the Forge.
So far she hadn't particularly enjoyed the bond they shared very much, nor had Trip. However, now she could fully appreciate it. Through their clasped hands the bond flowed coherently, healing and soothing away the pain that the loss of Elizabeth had caused. T'Pol found herself quite grateful for it, no matter how incidentally the bond had formed.
"Is that the bond doing that?" Trip asked.
T'Pol was almost surprised that he could sense it at work, being human.
"Yes." T'Pol replied. "It does this to encourage intimate contact."
"Oh." Trip said. "I guess it's not so bad after all."
"Indeed. It is not a bad thing. I believe we haven't availed ourselves of the more positive aspects of the bond due to resentment over the coincidental nature of its formation."
"What else can it do?"
"With practice, it can allow real time communication over any distance."
"Whoa." Trip said, surprised. "Over any distance?"
"Yes. You remember sharing my meditation space when you were on the Columbia? It's the same principle."
The door chimed.
T'Pol found herself resentful of the intrusion. Upon further reflection she found that being bonded to Trip didn't necessarily have to be a bad thing. The visitor had interrupted a very positive and long overdue conversation.
"Come in." T'Pol said.
Captain Archer entered the room.
"Just wanted to let you two know that the delegates mean to attend the memorial for Elizabeth." He said.
"I suppose that's good." Trip said.
"I have some bad news, though." Archer said. "Terra Prime plans to protest outside Starfleet Headquarters, where the memorial is to be held."
"You've got to be kidding me." Trip said, angrily. "Didn't the president declare them a terrorist organization?"
"Yes, she did." Archer replied. "But all they have to do is show up without Terra Prime flags and call themselves something else. On the other hand, a lot of groups, both left and right, are going to counter-protest."
"Good." Trip said, simply.
Archer finally noticed that Trip and T'Pol were holding hands.
"Look," He said. "This is probably the last thing you want to discuss right now, but I have to take a stand on your relationship. You're both of equal rank so there's no fundamental reason why the two of you can't be involved, but Starfleet does discourage it."
"And you?" Trip asked.
"As long as I'm not aware of it, I don't have to disapprove. Not to mention, with the current xenophobic hysteria out there, it might not do for you two to be seen as a couple. All I'm saying is, practice some discretion."
"We can do that." T'Pol responded.
"To be honest," Trip said. "It hasn't even come up in conversation yet. I don't think we know what kind of relationship we even have."
"Well, if I was allowed to have an opinion," Archer said. "I'd encourage the two of you to explore all possibilities. You do seem well suited to one another. I probably shouldn't have said that, but there you are."
"Thanks, Jon." Trip said. "I really appreciate that. And whatever we decide, you can count on our discretion."
"Good to hear." Archer said. "Okay, so I'll leave the two of you alone. Feel free to take as much time as you need before you return to work."
"I can mourn during my off hours." T'Pol said. "But I fear Trip may need some time."
"Well, he's got it."
"Very well." T'Pol responded. "Please convey to the rest of the crew that we are doing well."
"Will do." Archer said, with a nod. "Good night."
Archer left the room.
"Since he brought it up," Trip said, after a moment passed. "We should talk about us."
"Indeed." T'Pol said. "Our relationship requires definition."
"I want to say, 'whatever relationship you want is fine with me', but that would be putting all the pressure on you to define us."
"I don't mind." T'Pol said. "I also am comfortable with whatever relationship you prefer. However, if we are being logical, then, considering we are already bonded, a romantic relationship is the preferred option."
"It's nice being logical and all, but what do you feel?"
"I feel that we should follow the logical course. I realize that may not be sufficient for you, following logic alone, but that is how I feel."
"And are you still attracted to me?"
"I am. And I am aware that you are attracted to me."
"Then I can't fight the logic. If you want a romantic relationship, then I'm on board with that, and gladly."
"Very good." T'Pol said. "With that settled, we should meditate on our bond. A strong and healthy bond is essential to any logical romance."
T'Pol could only marvel that Trip had been a sobbing mess when he had first entered the room, but was now calm and focused. It was all due to the bond and T'Pol found herself eager to explore it and strengthen it.
She led Trip in guided mediation until they could share in the metaphysical nature of the bond. In the end, with very little effort, they found themselves in the endless white expanse of T'Pol's meditative mind. There they were able to communicate freely without physically speaking, promising the distant communion she referenced earlier.
They meditated together the following night and the night after, continuing to do so until the day of Elizabeth's memorial. Thankfully the rowdy protests outside Starfleet Headquarters weren't audible inside the complex and nothing interrupted the service. They would later learn that many Terra Prime agents had clashed with counter-protestors, requiring a harsh law enforcement response. Several Terra Prime members had been arrested and would be facing jail time.
Thankfully, it hadn't devolved into the full-blown riot that most expected it would.
True to their word, Trip and T'Pol refrained from holding hands or interacting physically in any way. They did, however, make it clear that they stood together in remembrance of Elizabeth.
Interpol Headquarters
New York, New York
Jan 29, 2155
John Frederick Paxton wore an orange jumpsuit, manacled at wrist and ankle. He had already been tried and convicted of a litany of charges, the most serious being treason. With rumors that Terra Prime agents planned to hijack the van carrying Paxton to the prison where he would be spending the rest of his life, transportation consisted of three separate convoys leaving Interpol Headquarters. Only one would contain Paxton, with its identity presumably being known only to the driver of the van itself and Inspector Savak, the Vulcan officer who had been in charge of conveying him around since his arrest.
Savak regarded Paxton passively, where he occupied a cage inside the van.
"I understand your distaste for non-humans." He said to Paxton. "Vulcans were once a very xenophobic people."
Paxton said nothing.
"You should avail yourself of your final hours of freedom in making peace with your supposed enemies." Savak said.
Paxton remained quiet.
"Very well." Savak said. "If you will not communicate, I can't force you…"
Suddenly a loud whoosh sounded outside the van, followed by the explosion of the lead vehicle in the convoy being struck. The van containing Paxton skidded to a halt, dislodging both Paxton and Savak from their seats. Outside, the driver's door being opened, and the driver being hauled out of the van could be heard.
In mere moments a pounding sounded from the rear hatch, followed by a deep male voice.
"Come on out or the driver gets an early retirement."
Savak took only a moment to come to his decision. It was obvious what was going to happen. He would, of course, open the hatch and surrender himself, followed by Paxton being freed and he, himself, being executed.
Savak reached and opened the hatch, finding a large human holding a plasma pistol to the head of the driver.
He was ushered out of the van quickly and placed on his knees.
A thinner human accompanying the large one took the keys from Savak's side, entered the van and freed Paxton, who jumped out of the van and stood behind Savak.
"Never let it be said I was the kind of leader averse to getting his hands dirty." Paxton said.
To the larger human Paxton said, "Hand me the pistol."
The human handed it over.
"You said I should spend my final hours making peace with my enemies." Paxton said to Savak. "There is only one path to peace between humans and non-humans."
"Just get it over with." Savak replied. "I won't beg for my life."
"So be it." Paxton said.
He held the plasma pistol to Savak's head and, without hesitation, pulled the trigger. A bolt of superheated plasma exploded into Savak's brain, scattering a gory mess all over Paxton's orange jumpsuit.
Paxton tossed the pistol back to the larger human.
"Now, lead the way." He said, distastefully. "I need to get out of this…prison suit."
"What about the driver?" The thinner human asked.
Paxton considered the obviously distressed driver, who was shaken having seen what happened to Savak.
"He's human." He said. "Let him tell everyone what happened here."
The driver nearly collapsed with relief. Paxton and the two other humans left him on his knees, getting into a sedan parked nearby and fleeing the scene.