The BLTS Archive - Eternal Linkage
by Bether (Bether6074@aol.com)

---

Genre: This is a tough one. Overall, I would have to say Fluff, but
there is definitely some Drama, a bit of Action/Adventure, some Angst
and, of course, Romance is sprinkled throughout.

Archive: Take it if you want, but please let me know.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Paramount. No infringement 
intended here.

Author's Notes: My finale fix and it got way more involved than I
intended it to. I'm going to have to ask for a little leeway from
readers here because action/adventure is not my strongpoint. I hope
the scenario I created isn't too implausible, but I figured it had to
be better than what aired. It was extremely difficult imagining where
T/T would be six years in the future, but I played with it a bit and
this is what I came up with. I hope you enjoy it.

---
Chapter One
---

Starlight danced through a small window and blanketed the sleeping
forms upon a nearby bed in a delicate blue hue. The phosphorescence
illuminated along the peaceful features of Commander Trip Tucker's
face. His golden eyelashes glistened slightly from the lucent rays,
tracing the curve of his resting eyes. Errant strands of blonde hair
pressed against his forehead in a tousled disarray. His lips pushed
together ethereally, a tiny gap emerging between the upper and lower
one as the air softly escaped them with each delicate breath.

T'Pol felt the warmth of Trip's body against hers. The soft thumping
of his heartbeat pulsed against her chest, its slight vibration
resonating along the slope of her breasts. The two lay intertwined,
his arms wrapped firmly around her, skin gently upon skin. The Vulcan
lifted her head slightly, gazing quietly at her dozing mate. He was
aesthetically pleasing in this manner, tranquil, uninhibited and very
human. T'Pol searched his face and focused unflinchingly upon his
eyes. She pushed a finger gingerly onto his shoulder in a benign poke.
The chief engineer stirred, grunting faintly and then slowly opened
his eyes. He smiled sweetly at the recognition of the face before him.

"Mmmm. . . hey," Trip whispered, still beaming at her.

"Good morning," T'Pol returned politely. She pushed away from him
temperately, breaking their embrace. "There is something we should
discuss."

Trip rubbed a hand along his forehead and squinted up at her. "Sounds
serious. . . "

"Have you given ample consideration to our current situation?"

"Situation?" Trip looked puzzled.

"Well. . . with the ship's upcoming decommission," T'Pol hesitated
momentarily, her voice trailing off.

"You're wondering what's gonna happen to us?" Trip finished her
thought instinctively.

"Yes. It's quite possible we could be given different assignments. I. . . I
do not wish to experience the absence of your companionship. The bond
we share. . . "

"I've been thinkin' about that too, T'Pol and. . . and I'm thinkin' maybe,"
he stammered, "Maybe, we should make this thing permanent." He winced
faintly, carefully gauging her reaction.

T'Pol raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Permanent? What exactly do you
mean by permanent, Trip?"

The handsome engineer dropped his head bashfully, flashing a sheepish
grin. He looked back up and locked eyes with T'Pol. There was a quick
flutter from within his chest, followed by an abrupt, pulsating throb.
A lump formed tightly in the back of his throat and his mouth felt
suddenly parched and devoid of all moisture. Trip gulped, sliding his
tongue roughly along the inside of his cheek in nervous tension. He
stared earnestly into the dark, hazel tinged eyes before him, trying
to gather some courage. "I mean. . . how would ya feel 'bout tyin' the
knot?" The young engineer's accent grew noticeably thicker with his
heightened apprehension.

T'Pol glared back, her head cocked slightly in interest. "You mean. . . "

"Bein' the missus, ya know?"

"Are you proposing that we. . . "

"That's exactly what I'm doin', T'Pol. . .  proposing," Trip interrupted
yet again. He sensed the blood rushing to his face, as the skin of his
cheeks took on a noticeably pink tint in a shy blush. His pale blue
eyes sparkled energetically with wonderment. "We could wait 'til the
Cap'n gives his speech and then. . . "

"I had actually been considering returning to Vulcan," T'Pol stated
flatly.

Trip's face sank, dejectedly. "You mean, leave Starfleet? And move to
Vulcan?"

"Perhaps. I have been living with humans for over ten years."

Trip's eyes fell to the crumpled sheets beneath them. He fidgeted
anxiously with the creases of the covers, his fingers skimming along
the edges, smoothing out the ruffles. He glanced back up somberly, the
pain evident in all his features. "Is that what you want?"

"This disturbs you," the Vulcan observed keenly, sensing the distress
emanating from her bond mate. She turned and lifted herself from the
bed, reaching for a nearby robe. "Naturally, I would request that you
accompany me to my homeland, Trip," she stated, matter-of-factly. The
Commander's face relaxed as he sighed deeply in relief. He stammered a
moment, frowning slightly in realization.

"I appreciate the thought and all, but... give up my career? I don't
know, T'Pol."

T'Pol finished tying the knot of her garment and sat down gently onto
the corner of the bed. She twisted her body slightly and met eyes with
her partner. "It would be difficult to raise children on a starship.
With your experience, I have no doubt you would be placed on another
vessel."

The Commander's lips pressed together in a tender, warm-hearted smile.
"Children. . . " Trip rolled onto his back and cradled his head with folded
hands. He stared wondrously at the ceiling in silent contentment. "I
guess a change in scenery might not be a bad thing after all. And
Vulcan sure is a beautiful planet." He released his hands and turned
back toward T'Pol curiously. "Wonder how Vulcan would feel about me?
About us?"

"The relationship between our two species has improved considerably
over the last ten years. And I do believe that Ambassador Soval has a
particular. . .  fondness for you."

"Ya think he likes me? Really? Never thought I'd see the day. . . "

"We could be married in a traditional Vulcan ceremony."

Trip's smile broadened into an ear to ear grin. "So, you'll marry me
then?"

"Yes. We are bonded. It is logical for our union to become formal."

"Look, T'Pol. I know you don't like to be hugged and all, well except
when we're. . . when we. . . anyways, since this is a special occasion, do you
think maybe just this once, I could. . . "

"You may embrace me if you wish."

The words hadn't fully escaped her mouth when Trip sprung up and
tightened his hands around her, compressing their bodies together with
a soft squeeze. T'Pol attempted to relax in his clutch, her hands
still loosely hung to the side. His face gently touched hers as the
warm skin of his cheek swayed lightly back and forth in a soothing
motion. She closed her eyes in acceptance and permitted his tender
nuzzling. A familiar scent permeated the air. It was masculine,
vigorous and recognizable. It surrounded her, pervaded her thoughts,
and bombarded her senses with a reckless abandon. The Vulcan raised a
hand to the human's hair and ran her fingers through the flowing
softness and waves. She gazed intensely into the sky blue eyes of
Commander Tucker. His pupils dilated in arousal, as she stroked the
back of his head genuinely. Lips crashed together abruptly, their
fleshy softness colliding in dynamic fashion. Trip slid his tongue
along T'Pol's mouth fervently and slipped inside, passionately
caressing her in long, steady strokes. He moved his hands to her face,
sensitively fingering the smooth skin along her jaw and neck. A hand
pushed lightly into his chest, forcing Trip to take a wobbly step
backward, breaking the kiss. His lips ached from the sudden absence.
"Somethin' wrong, T'Pol?" Trip managed to utter, his breathing still
rapid.

She shook her head faintly. "No. . . but perhaps it would be wise if I
returned to my quarters, before we precede any further with. . . this act."

"Act, T'Pol? You're such a romantic! Do you always have to be so
clinical?"

"I apologize if I offended you. I simply believe it would be best if
we continue this at a more convenient time. The Captain will be
expecting us on the bridge within the hour."

"Aw, c'mon Darlin', I could've finished by then."

T'Pol glared back at him and raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps you should
shower before reporting for duty this morning. In very cold water. . . "

"Now there's an idea. Care to join me?"

"As I told you, I must return to my quarters. Meet me at 2100 hours
tonight. I believe it would serve to be beneficial if you meditated
with me tonight."

"Sure thing, Darlin'. Your place or mine?"

"We always meditate in my quarters."

"Right. . . if you'll excuse me Commander T'Pol, I believe I hear some cold
water running."

She nodded in accordance, ignoring his sarcasm, and made her way
toward the exit.

---
Chapter Two
---

A faint vanilla aroma permeated through the stale air, its sweet odor
relaxing to Commander T'Pol as she sat upon the soft brown rug with
legs crossed and hands folded. She closed her eyes and concentrated on
the familiar, vast, empty, white room that suddenly surrounded her.
There was no stimulation; no visions, no people, and no emotions. . . only
blank space and vacuous dreams. "Hey, T'Pol." The Vulcan startled
momentarily at the invasion. She glanced up from the white floor to
see Commander Tucker standing before her.

"Must you constantly interrupt me?" she questioned sternly, the
irritation simmering beneath her voice.

Trip shrugged his shoulders innocently. "You told me to meet you
here."

"I meant in my quarters, not in my mind."

"I can't help it, T'Pol. It's this damn bond. I keep findin' my way
into your head."

"If you do not allow me the peace to proceed with my meditation, I may
begin to lose control."

"Sorry, Darlin'. Seems like whenever I think of you. . . if you happen to
be meditatin', well, this is where I end up."

"I understand. It just makes this more challenging than is necessary."
She paused briefly, regaining her subdued demeanor. "I assume that you
will be arriving to my quarters soon then. Perhaps you are already on
the way?"

"Yep. Be there in just a couple minutes. Just havin' a little daydream
on my way."

The chime rang out, jolting the Vulcan from her place of serenity and
back to the cushy, almond rug covering the floor of her room. "Come
in." She remained seated, in meditating posture.

The door slid open and Trip strolled in leisurely. "Hello," he
whispered, almost inaudibly.

"Your sense of time is not very accurate." T'Pol noted with a knowing
look.

"Huh?" The chief engineer appeared baffled. He stepped closer to T'Pol
and sat down beside her, his eyes fixated onto hers.

"You said you would arrive in several minutes, but in reality it was
only mere seconds."

"Oh, sorry. Guess I'm still getting used to this physic bond thing."
He gestured upward apologetically with both palms open and smiled
warmly, his characteristically timid pose enveloping his features.

"It's been six years. One would think that perhaps you would have some
understanding of it by now."

"I know. And I do. I suppose eventually I'll figure it out, but for
now, I'm still workin' at it."

"Fair enough. Shall we begin?"

"Ready when you are, T'Pol."

"Very well." She placed both hands down upon the young man's thighs,
nudging him forward. "Remember what I told you, legs crossed like
this. Fold your hands." The Vulcan watched as Trip complied with her
advisements. She scooted her body next to him and the two settled
comfortably together, their stances in sync. "Now close your eyes and
relax your body. Concentrate on your quiet place. Free yourself from
anything you are feeling. Concentrate. Breathe deeply. Direct your
mind to the quiet place."

The cool sand brushed along Trip Tucker's feet with every soft step,
its smooth texture gliding slowly along his toes as they pressed down
into the granules. The ocean stretched infinitely across the horizon,
its immensity stunning and pure. In the distance, the sun shone
brightly, a flaming, and titian mass just beyond the water. The sky
was a resplendent ultramarine, tinted with brilliant streaks of pink
scattered universally throughout the heavens. Trip stopped walking and
flopped down gently onto the beach. He allowed his senses to be
overcome by the magnificent beauty of his chosen venue. The sound of
the waves rippling against the rocks, the feel of gentle sand upon his
skin, the visual resplendency of this cherished place on earth
enveloped his body and soothed his soul. An annoying and sudden
compression pushed moderately down on his arm and in an instant, the
beach vanished. Trip forced his lids apart surprisingly.

"Damn. I was just startin' to like that place," he stated regretfully.

"Indeed, your skills are improving. I had to use more than minimal
pressure to arouse you."

"Arouse me?" Trip laughed. "Well, so much for learnin' to relax." The
engineer slowly scanned her body suggestively. He tilted his head
slightly and shot T'Pol a flirtatious grin, his eyes gleaming. "You
can arouse me some more, if ya like..."

T'Pol glared at him, disdainfully. "That was not the purpose or
intention of this visit."

"I know. I know. I was only teasin'."

"This type of behavior is not amusing." She gazed at him sternly.
Suddenly his face began to blur, a haze surrounding his features. The
room swayed in a repetitive, deliberate rocking motion before her.
T'Pol closed her eyes and placed a shaky hand to her forehead, trying
to regain her sense of reality. There was a distant and familiar voice
chiming repeatedly in her ears, its sound reverberating in a
continuous and hollow echo. She felt herself slipping away as the
blackness crept in, enclosing her rapidly into an unknown destination.
Her body went limp and slumped to the floor with an abrupt thud.

"T'Pol!" Trip yelled in shock as his Vulcan partner lay crumpled
before him. He placed one hand gingerly beneath her legs and the other
in a tender grasp under her neck, lifting her carefully. The engineer
scooped the long, slender form up off the floor, his breaths heavy and
unsteady. He gave a quick elbow to the exit button and fled hurriedly
down the hallway, T'Pol tucked delicately in his arms. Trip raced
along the pathway, with adrenaline pumping, his mind swelling with
confusion and fear. His legs began to ache from the stress, each step
a cumbersome and weary effort. Finally, the doors to Sickbay neared,
rejuvenating him briefly as the pace of his steps increased rapidly.
Trip burst through the entrance, startling the Denobulan Doctor.

"Doc! Doc! What's happenin' to her?" Trip shouted as he placed T'Pol
down on a nearby biobed. Dr. Phlox rushed over, concern blanketing his
face, and touched a hand deftly upon T'Pol's shoulder. He ran a
florescent blue light methodically over her body. Trip gasped, his
voice panicked. "What is it, Doc? What's wrong?"

Dr. Phlox glanced up from his patient and spoke with a soft and steady
voice. "Commander, I want you to try and calm down please. You're not
helping her this way." Trip nodded and glanced back down at T'Pol. His
stomach wrenched tightly as an urgent and sickening nausea swept
quickly over him. "Tell me exactly what happened," Phlox continued.
"What were you doing?"

"We were just sittin' and meditatin'."

"So this happened during meditation?"

"No. . .  no, Doc. We were done. We were just talkin'. . .  She kinda got a
little fuzzy or somethin'. . .  She grabbed her head and just went down."

"Mmmm. . . " the doctor murmured while scanning over T'Pol with his medical
device. A mild smile emerged from his lips, his face brightening.
"Well, Commander, you'll be happy to know this is certainly nothing
serious."

Trip exhaled in relief. "Thank God." His tongue skimmed along the soft
edges of his bottom lip nervously. "Well, what is it then, Doc?"

Dr. Phlox fidgeted restlessly a moment, his hands clasped in front of
his body. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you,
Commander. You'll have to speak with T'Pol regarding that matter."

"C'mon, Doc, you gotta tell me!"

"I'm sorry. It's Doctor-Patient confidentiality. Not much I can say
I'm afraid." Phlox grabbed the top of the long, white curtain firmly
and stretched it completely open, concealing the unconscious science
officer.

Trip stared at him pleadingly. "Please, Doc, I'm beggin' ya. . . "

"I'm very sorry, Commander, but we should really allow her to rest
now. If you'll excuse me. . . "

Trip stood frozen, watching as the doctor went about his business.
T'Pol's body silhouetted through the thin alabaster drapes, her
shadowy form lay still upon the medical biobed. Trip felt a sense of
energy surround him, a powerful force engulfing his senses. The chief
engineer swallowed hard in realization. "She's pregnant! That's it!
She's pregnant, isn't she?"

"A very astute assessment I must say, Commander Tucker. There is no
sense hiding it since you have already guessed correctly. She does
indeed appear to be in the very early stages of pregnancy. I can find
nothing else wrong with her. Dizziness is a common symptom throughout
the gestation period." He paused momentarily. "I believe
congratulations are in order."

Trip grinned widely, his face aglow with pride. "Thanks, Doc."

"How on earth did you know?" the doctor questioned.

"T'Pol and I have some sort of a bond. . . a Vulcan psychic bond. I just
sensed it. Somehow I just. . . knew." Worry crept slowly over Trip's face.
"Should I be concerned, Doc? You said that Human and Vulcan DNA could
combine and everything would probably be all right. I'm really hoping
ya still feel that way. But, knowin' what happened to Elizabeth. . . "

"I can find no reason to believe that this child won't be born
completely healthy. There is, of course, no way of knowing this with
one hundred percent certainty, but the same could be said of any
unborn child still in the womb. It's just part of the job requisite.
Worrying about one's child is quite common and completely natural.
Trust me when I tell you, Commander Tucker, it has only just begun."

"Thanks, Doc. I'm feelin' so much better now," Trip replied
sarcastically. There was a slight movement from the drapes, followed
by a soft groan. Trip peered over Phlox's shoulder, his face
brightening "She's wakin' up, Doc! Can I see her?"

"Certainly. I trust that you'll be sharing the good news with her?"

"You betcha, Doc." The chief engineer walked carefully around the
curtain and moved cautiously to the head of the bed. He clasped his
hand tenderly upon T'Pol's and squeezed lightly. "You gave me quite a
scare, T'Pol," Trip whispered sincerely. "Guess I'm not a very good
meditatin' partner, huh?" He knelt down on the floor and gazed at her
with gleaming eyes and a warm smile.

T'Pol turned her head marginally and swallowed hard, eyes riveting to
her human friend. "It is very unlikely our shared meditation had any
bearing on what occurred." Her eyebrows furrowed inquisitively. "You
appear . . . oddly content. Was Dr. Phlox able to find a cause for this
unusual episode? It has never happened before. . . "

"Well, you've never been pregnant before either, T'Pol."

"Pregnant?" The Vulcan questioned, in muted shock. "You mean I am. . . "

"Yes. Doctor Phlox says you are in the early stages." Trip couldn't
conceal his obvious excitement. His face beamed proudly.

"Will the baby be all right?" The words escaped softly from the
Vulcan's mouth, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"I know what you're thinkin', Darlin'. I was thinkin' the same thing.
But Phlox says there's no reason to believe our baby won't be born
healthy," Trip offered reassuringly.

"I hope that assessment is correct." T'Pol paused a moment, in quiet
contemplation. "This news is most agreeable, Trip."

"Glad ya feel that way." Trip pulled his hand back carefully from
T'Pol's, gently releasing his fingers from hers. "You should get some
rest. I'll see ya later, okay?" he whispered tenderly, with a sweet
smile.

T'Pol nodded slightly and watched as he passed through the exit,
disappearing down the corridor. She lifted her hand slowly and placed
it gracefully down upon her lower abdomen, closed her eyes and drifted
peacefully off to sleep.

---
Chapter Three
---

Captain Jonathan Archer picked up his bottle of celebratory whiskey
and slowly poured the contents into the two glasses upon the table. He
grasped one mug in his hand, sliding it over with a gentle push to his
nearby companion. Commander Trip Tucker lifted the tumbler graciously
and raised it to his lips, his eyes still fixed on the Captain. He put
the drink down and smiled, circling a thumb around the edge of the rim
absentmindedly. "So Friday's the big day." Trip remarked. It was more
of a statement than a question.

Archer nodded affirmatively, swallowing his whiskey with a slight
grin. "Yes, it most certainly is."

"Got your speech all set?"

"Well. . . not quite," Archer stammered. "I've got three days yet to write
it."

Trip rested his elbow onto the table and placed a hand along the side
of his face, a palm supporting his chin. He sighed softly and smiled
to himself. "Biggest day of your life and you're gonna wait 'til the
night before. . . "

"Don't worry, Trip, it'll be ready. The charter will be signed and,
well. . . let's hope this is the start of a new beginning."

Trip nodded and raised his glass to Archer's, gently bouncing the two
together with a clank. "To new beginnings. . . "

"Yes," Archer returned, still extending his goblet into the air. "To
new beginnings. . . " He took a small sip and glanced up at Trip with a
slight gleam in his eye. "Speaking of new beginnings Trip, did I hear
something about you and a certain Vulcan Science Officer?"

Trip looked back at the Captain bashfully. "It doesn't take long for
news to spread around here, does it?" The Commander looked down, his
hand gently rubbing the table, and shook his head with a laugh. "Who
would've ever guessed it? Charles Tucker III marryin' a Vulcan. And
now. . . " he stammered, "Now T'Pol's gonna have a baby. I still can't
believe it, Cap'n."

Archer smiled and put a hand to Trip's arm supportively. "You're a
lucky man, Trip," he quipped.

"Yeah," Trip nodded. "Yeah, I know, Cap'n. I know."

"Engineering to Captain Archer." A voice sounded out sternly from the
intercom, interrupting the pleasant conversation between the two
friends. The Captain shot Trip a confused stare.

"Archer here. Who am I speaking with?"

"Commander Kelby, Sir. We have a serious situation brewing here."

"My chief engineer is sitting right next to me, Commander," Archer
offered. "What exactly is the problem?"

"I don't have time to explain, Sir. I think Commander Tucker had
better get down here. We have an emergency!"

Trip looked to Archer, who gave the engineer an approving nod. "Go
ahead, Trip. Keep me posted. I'm headed to the bridge."

"Aye, Sir." The words had barely left his mouth when the Commander
darted for the door on his way to engineering. Trip had no idea what
to expect, but the tone and urgency of this distress call left a sick
feeling in the pit of his stomach. He ran down the hallway, darting
from side to side in an effort to avoid collisions with several
members of the crew. As Trip came around the last corner near
engineering, he found himself face to face with Commander Kelby. The
young dark-haired Commander glared at Trip, an evil guise enveloping
his features. Trip slanted his head curiously, took a step forward and
blinked in realization.

"You wanna tell me exactly what the hell is going on here, Kelby?"

"I'd be more than happy to explain, Commander Tucker." He paused for a
moment and glared disdainfully at Trip. "Everyone aboard this ship is
going to die today. And they will have you to thank for it," he
sneered coldly.

Trip felt his anger rising as the blood rushed swiftly to his face. He
advanced forward aggressively and pushed into Kelby, forcing the
younger engineer to step backwards awkwardly. "What the hell are ya
talkin' about? What have you done?" Trip grasped Kelby's uniform and
twisted the clothing tightly into his clenched fist. "You better start
talkin'!"

Kelby grabbed Trip's hand and gave him a quick shove. The two began to
tussle and struggle, fists flailing through the air. Kelby dropped his
hands briefly and Trip seized the opportunity of an open shot at him
with a quick jab to the face. The stunned rebel fell to his knees and
was instantly knocked on his back with a forceful punch to the jaw.
Trip kneeled over him, the sweat pouring off his face and glared
irately at the downed troublemaker. Kelby rubbed a finger along his
bloodied lip and stared brazenly at the hovering figure above him.

"There's nothing you can do. The bombs are preprogrammed. They will
detonate in less than fifteen minutes. And not even an experienced,
smart guy like you can disable them that quickly. Face it, Tucker. . . 
you, the Captain and your precious Vulcan lover will die before this
ship can even reach space dock."

"Bombs! Sonuva bitch! Where are they? Tell me where they are or I'll
blow your head off right now!" Trip ripped out his phase pistol and
pointed it at Kelby's forehead. "Get up." Kelby lay on the floor,
unmoving. "I said get up!" Commander Kelby rolled onto his side and
pressed a hand to the carpet, scrambling awkwardly to his feet. Trip
grabbed the end of his belt and quickly unlatched the buckle. With a
firm yank, he pulled his belt free, the clutched weapon still aimed
toward Kelby. Scanning the room with urgency, the blond-haired
commander spotted a long pillar standing over in the corner. Trip gave
Kelby an energetic shove, directing him toward the pole. "Put your
hands up. Wrap 'em around it," he ordered. The chief engineer wrapped
the leather firmly around Kelby's outstretched hands and tied them
onto the beam with a taught knot. "Why are you doin' this, Kelby? You
had your whole career ahead of you."

"That's an easy question. I'm doing it because I hate you Commander
Tucker." The words slipped from his mouth with an unsettling ease.
"You and Captain Archer had it in for me from the beginning. Bringing
me here and stealing my position. . . I am the superior engineer. You'll be
blamed for this, Tucker and your name will be stained forever."

"You're crazy!" Trip took a step closer and pushed the phase pistol
lightly into Kelby's temple. "It's set to kill," he stated, in a firm
and controlled voice. "Now tell me where the bombs are."

"I'm going to die anyway. Why would I care if you shoot me now?" Kelby
squirmed, his hands growing increasingly uncomfortable and then
thought for a moment. "All right. . . suppose I tell you exactly where they
are, Mr. Chief Engineer? I'd love to see the look on your face when
you realize that you are about to die and there's nothing you can do
about it!" He tilted his head with a nod toward the wall at the
opposite end of the room. "Over there, inside the compartments."

"Inside 'em?" Trip dashed over and opened the doors. A bright red
chronometer clicked before him, the seconds ticking down methodically
in rhythmic succession, as the destiny of an impending disaster.
Beneath the timer, only several feet away, was another, somewhat
smaller clock. "Two?" Trip exclaimed in subdued shock.

Kelby tugged roughly at the leather strapped on his hands and winced
as the edges dug into his skin repeatedly, causing a significant
amount of swelling. "My plan needed to be foolproof with no chance for
errors," he hissed callously. "There's no way you can disable both in
time to save the ship."

"Captain Archer to Commander Tucker."

Trip startled for an instant at the familiar tone emanating from the
speaker. He sighed; his eyes still fixed on the silent, recurrently
ticking time bomb before him.

"Yeah, Cap'n, I'm here," Trip spoke softly with a calm voice.

"What's your status down there?" Archer questioned with concern.

"Well, there's a bit of a problem, Sir." The engineer brushed off a
slow trickle of sweat from his brow with a quick swipe and then gulped
mildly. "We got a couple of bombs and only about ten minutes to stop
'em from goin' off."

"What?"

"This big one will take down the whole ship if it blows, Cap'n. The
little one, well. . . maybe just engineering," Trip added with a slight
resignation.

There was a long pause as Archer paced the floor of the bridge
angrily. "Trip, do we have any idea who's responsible for this?"

"Oh yeah, sir, I got a real good idea just exactly who's responsible.
But now isn't the best time, Sir. Nine minutes and counting down. . . "

"Let me get down there and help you."

"No!"

"I'll assemble a team. . . Travis and Malcolm. Is Kelby there with you?"

"Yeah, he's here, but I have a distinct feelin' he isn't gonna be much
help." Trip glared over at his counterpart malignly. "Cap'n," the
engineer called, his voice growing louder and with more conviction.
"You can't send anyone else down here. All you'd be doin' is placin'
more lives in danger. Our best bet is to let me disable the devices
myself."

"Too late, Trip. I'm already on my way. . . "

"Cap'n, if you come down here, I'll shoot ya, I swear! And you know I
would. . .  You gotta trust me, Cap'n. Go back to the bridge. Let me handle
this!"

"All right, Trip. I trust you. I'm on my way back. We'll be standing
by."

"Thank you, Sir. I won't let you down."

Trip exhaled deeply and stared ahead at the intricate explosive
device, his brain soaking in its structure and configuration. His
heart began to pulsate briskly as adrenaline shot through his body
with a precipitous rush. The chief engineer's breathing quickened as
this ultimate task struck in his mind with a sudden clarity. Its
urgency and importance weighed down upon him, a unique pressure that
felt unknown and frightening. The ramifications of failure would
certainly mean the death of all crew members of the Starship
Enterprise. Trip blinked and shook off any lingering self-doubts, his
confidence burgeoning. i I can do this. I have to do this. /i The
young man's hands began to work feverishly upon the wires, his fingers
meticulously maneuvering the connections. Sweat poured down his face
and dripped unabatedly into his eyes. The salty wetness of the
perspiration burned into his cornea, temporarily blurring his vision.
Trip raised a forearm to his face and rubbed away the sting with a
rapid swipe. He placed one finger guardedly down upon a colored wire,
closed his eyes gently and pulled. Dead silence permeated the air. The
sweet sound of engines vibrated softly in the background, their faint
purr a welcome tone to Trip's ears. He opened his eyes and gazed at
the countdown clock before him. The numbers were gone, replaced by a
blackened and empty screen. Trip sighed in relief. One down. . . one to go.

"Well, Commander, you managed to save your crew. . . but will you be able
to save yourself? I'm tied here, Tucker. You can just walk away. . . "
Kelby offered with a sneer.

Trip glanced back at him with irritation, but remained steadfast. "If
I leave, that bomb will explode and damage the engines. This ship
needs those engines. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"A true hero...he's willing to die for his engines. How touching. . . " The
words from Kelby's mouth sounded out as a reflection of his cynical,
malicious and obviously disturbed state of mind.

"Shut the hell up, Kelby! If I die, I'm sure as hell gonna make
certain I take you with me." Trip crouched down to his knees,
concentrating intensely on the wires of the menacing and hazardous
apparatus. He lifted his head slightly and found his eyes riveted to
the ticking clock. Fluorescent crimson seared the cool sapphire hue
beneath his lids, sealing a tragic fate with each successive recurring
click. Trip felt his body go numb with an abrupt swiftness. The blood
rushed from his face, its warmth flowing hastily down his chest, and
caused his heart to flutter with fear. His hands fidgeted helplessly
and frantically, fingers  searching desperately for an immediate
answer. i Give me ten more  seconds! Ten more seconds, dammit/i The
timer displayed its digital  numbers clearly before the eyes of Trip
Tucker, but the engineer's  valiant courage refused to obey the
inevitable. 00:07, 00:06, 00:05,  00:04, 00:03, 00:02, 00:01. . . 

---
Chapter Four
---

T'Pol blinked determinedly, trying to fend off the unwelcome and
uneasy feeling which had invaded her body. Its intensity grew more
powerful within her as each second of time passed with an infinite
measure. She swayed lightly back and forth from her chair on the
bridge, awaiting word, along with the others, from Commander Tucker.
The Vulcan gazed down at the floor momentarily and imagined hearing
the soft tone of his voice, the slight inflection of his words and the
familiar comfort of his wit. Surely there would be some sly remark
from his tongue or perhaps an offbeat joke in an effort to deflect the
apprehension created by the danger that had just passed. Or had it
passed?

Captain Archer paced the floor restlessly, his face stern from anxiety
and tension. He moved to T'Pol, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How long has it been?"

T'Pol glanced downward, checking her clock and gulped, sighing softly.
She felt her mouth go dry as she uttered the words. "Nine minutes have
passed since the Commander's first transmission, Sir." She paused
briefly as the information permeated through her mind. "This means,
Captain, that less than one minute remains until the devices
discharge. That is, provided Commander Tucker has not already disabled
them."

Archer bit his lip nervously. "Trip should have reported by now."

There was a sudden and forceful tremor that shook the room
momentarily, causing Archer to briefly lose grip of his footing. He
staggered and regained control, looking to T'Pol, as a look of dread
crossed over his face. "I can't wait here any longer. I'm going down
there," he stated firmly. "T'Pol, you have the bridge." The Science
Officer stared back at him stoically, her lips struggling to form the
words. Archer shot her a stern glare; interrupting any thought she had
of attempting to stop him. "You have your orders, Commander."

"Yes, Sir," she returned with a hint of resignation and then added,
more gently, "Be careful, Sir." Archer blinked and smiled softly at
her, nodding his head as he walked out the door.

Captain Archer squinted his eyes tensely, trying to make out the
shadowy figure that lay crumpled on the floor at the end of the
corridor to engineering. He rushed hurriedly through the billows of
smoke that permeated the air, a hand lightly covering his mouth. Small
fires burned in several areas and a sickening stench from the apparent
explosion caused the Captain to gag reflexively. As his steps neared
the downed crew member, he quickly realized this person was no longer
alive. The face was charred almost beyond recognition, a blackened
layer of soot embedded upon the skin. Archer knelt down and carefully
examined the features, his heart wrenching. He placed a hand
delicately upon the head, gently grazing the man's hair and then
noticed its dark color as the strands lay along his fingers. A long,
black leather strap hung loosely from one arm. Archer laid a hand
beneath the frayed end inquisitively, noting a silver buckle still
bound to the wrist. Tracing the body with a thorough scan, Archer
spotted the familiar navy blue threads of a Starfleet uniform covering
the burned arms and legs. He scrambled quickly to his feet with a long
sigh of relief. Trip's hair was much lighter than this man's and Trip
certainly wasn't in uniform that night. When the two shared a drink
earlier in Archer's quarters, the Captain distinctly remembered his
young engineer being donned in civilian clothing. This dead body was
not his friend. It wasn't Trip.

A mere several yards away, Trip Tucker felt a searing pain shoot
through his entire body as he lay wounded upon the cold floor,
trembling in shock. He groaned with anguish, somehow still conscious,
and curled his body into a fetal position, in a desperate attempt to
ease the suffering. The injured young man struggled valiantly to lift
his head, but with each small motion felt a sharp jolt of agony in his
chest. Trip gasped perilously for air. His torched lips opened
marginally, a dry tongue crossing over the roughness, as he by some
means managed to mutter a low, croaking sound. "Heellpp. . . someone,
please..." Trip gathered his energy with determination. He rolled onto
his stomach, and then hollered out in distress, as his open wounds
pressed firmly upon the flat and hard surface. The weakened engineer
crushed his arms gruelingly against the floor and using his elbows as
leverage, amazingly slid forward several inches. He grunted in pain,
exhaling in short, sputtered breaths. I gotta find someone. Got to get
help. C'mon, Tucker, you can do this. Just push and slide. No pain. No
pain. Trip dragged himself several feet, trying desperately to ignore
the misery which encompassed his entire being. He heard the tap of
steady footsteps in the near distance. Through the smoky air, he
recognized the hazy figure approaching as his mentor and friend.

"Jesus, Trip. . . " Captain Archer exclaimed at the sight of his fallen
comrade. He placed both arms beneath Trip, turned him onto his back
and gathered him up with a gentle swoop. Archer smiled weakly at the
injured engineer, with a comforting genuineness. "We have to get you
to Sickbay." The Captain began moving briskly through the hallways,
unaffected by the weight of the Commander in his grasp.

Trip whirled his head from side to side, mumbling softly.
"Cap'n. . . T'Pol. . . the baby. . . "

"Everything is going to be all right. Let's get you to Dr. Phlox.
You'll see T'Pol soon, I promise."

"The engines. . . "

"They were damaged some from what I can tell. We'll get someone
working on them. Don't worry, Trip."

"Where's T'Pol? I need her. I gotta see her. Cap'n, please."

"Shhh. . . don't try to talk." Archer gazed into Trip's eyes. "I will get
T'Pol for you, Trip, okay? But right now you need medical help. Just
please try and relax. It's going to be okay." The Captain tapped his
communicator. "Archer to Dr.Phlox."

"Yes, Captain, Phlox here," the Doctor replied from Sickbay.

Archer noticed Trip seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness.
"I'm on my way there with Commander Tucker. He's been burned from an
explosion." He paused and gazed down at the Commander, whose eyes were
now closed. The two continued their rapid pace down the corridor.
Archer spoke in a hushed tone. "He's hurt badly, Doctor. . . and there's a
dead body in Engineering that I'm quite certain is Commander Kelby."

Dr. Phlox could tell by the inflection of the Captain's voice that
this was a serious situation. "I'll send someone down for the body."
He paused briefly, in quiet contemplation. "I'll be ready for you,
Captain," Phlox added with a reserved, yet reassuring tone.

Moments later, the sickbay doors slid open. Captain Archer entered,
breathing heavily, with Trip flailing about in his arms. Phlox moved
to them rapidly, assessing the engineer's injuries with a sweeping
efficiency. "Put him down on the table." The Doctor placed a hand
gently upon Trip's shoulder and methodically ran his scanner over the
Commander's body. Phlox's face fell as he stared at the results on the
screen before him. He lifted his head slowly and found Archer's eyes.
No words were spoken, but the Captain recognized this expression. He
knew by the slight frown of the mouth, the sadness in the eyes and the
dejection which enveloped the Denobulan's face. He knew his friend
might die.

Archer felt his body go limp, his legs weakening, his chest aching.
His heart pounded heavily within his bosom, as each rhythmic pulse
radiated the pain with every successive beat. He gulped knowingly;
eyes still focused on Phlox, and then glanced down at Trip tenderly.
His companion blinked softly, momentarily peaceful, and flashed Archer
a delicate, consolatory smile.

"Captain, please," Phlox interrupted, with urgency. "Obviously he was
in close proximity to the heat from the explosion. His lungs are
partially thermolyzed. We need to get him into the hyperbaric
chamber!" The two grasped Trip and lifted him cautiously; their arms
wrapped tightly around his fragile body and carried him carefully
toward the chamber. The door thrust open and they released him onto
the metal table, watching helplessly as it guided the wounded Chief
Engineer into its long, murky tunnel.

The hatch slid down rapidly, sealing the badly injured young man into
the dark and desolate chamber. His eyes briefly scanned the walls
surrounding him as his chest heaved violently and painfully. A sharp,
searing agony fell over his neck and thorax, the smell of burning
flesh more pronounced with each passing moment. Trip closed his eyes
in anguish. His body tensed rigidly, attempting to battle the misery
which wracked its every fiber.

Images pervaded Trip's mind. Thoughts, feelings and memories raced
throughout his brain, consuming him imperiously with past events in
his life. He writhed frantically upon the hard, cold surface beneath
him, straining desperately to attain a small measure of control. The
Commander focused clearly for a moment, attempting to even his
breaths, as the figure before him became unmistakable.

T'Pol's radiant beauty saturated Trip's consciousness, her perfect
features stamped eternally within his being. Her face immersed him
perpetually, comforting his weary soul in a visual onslaught. Feeling
trapped in his broken and ravaged body, the wounded engineer beat
restlessly with a trembling hand at the encircling metal. He felt an
imperishable need and longing for his bond mate's presence. Trip
reached for T'Pol with a powerful rush of emotions. He tried
desperately to summon her, connect with her, call her to his side. The
thought of dying without seeing her one last time only further
increased the torment he now endured. Trip lay alone and despondent,
whispering a soft prayer that T'Pol would feel his urgent beckoning.
C'mon, Darlin', I need you. Please, T'Pol, just let me see you one
more time. Trip gasped heavily, and then silently slipped into
unconsciousness, the pain escaping him.

Back on the bridge, Malcolm relayed some unfortunate news. "We have
affirmation of an explosion in Engineering," he stated, with a growing
tension in his voice. Commander T'Pol rose from her chair,
unflinching.

"Damage report."

Malcolm looked down at the information, pressing buttons frantically.
"Significant. The engines have taken some moderate damage, but appear
repairable." He paused momentarily, staring at his gauges. "Lucky
thing there were only two officers in the area. Still. . . there has to be
injuries, Commander, and I'd be willing to bet they're not minor."

T'Pol stared ahead intensely, focusing her thoughts. She paced back
and forth rhythmically, assessing her options with urgency. The
Commander placed a finger gently down upon her communicator. "T'Pol to
Archer. . . Captain, can you read me?" The Vulcan science officer stood
quietly at her station on the bridge, patiently awaiting a response.

"There appears to be some type of interference. Do you hear that?"
Malcolm questioned. There was a low, grumbling static. Malcolm shook
his head. "There's no answer. . .  It's quite possible he doesn't hear us."
Lieutenant Reed's face fell, anxiety crossing over his features. "What
about Trip? Maybe. . . " His words trailed off softly in realization.

T'Pol nodded in recognition. "We know he was down there. . . " her voice
faded away, the words almost inaudible. She sighed lightly and
attempted to contact the ship's engineer, though being quite certain
he would not respond. "Commander T'Pol to Commander Tucker. Commander,
please report." Dead silence filled the air as each passing second
spelled an impending doom. T'Pol felt herself overcome with a barrage
of emotions certainly not her own. She grasped at her chest
instinctively, as Trip's presence ubiquitously permeated her being.
The Vulcan's breathing began to increase slightly as an eerie
awareness became abruptly evident to her. Her eyes widened briefly.
"Trip. . . " she whispered, knowingly to herself and then turned toward the
crew. "The Commander is in trouble. . .  and I need to locate the Captain.
Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Mayweather, you have the bridge." Malcolm and
Travis gestured in acknowledgement as T'Pol moved quickly toward the
exit.

There was a strong sense of Trip within T'Pol's mind. The essence of
him weighed down upon her, more powerfully than she could ever recall,
more desperate and needier. T'Pol's sensitive telepathy gave her an
ominous impression as she approached engineering. She halted her steps
abruptly and surveyed what remained of the place her human partner
held so dear. The smoky air hovered around her, its thick, pungent
fumes indicative of a nearby fire that was likely still burning.
Shattered glass covered the floor, in long, uneven shards. T'Pol
stepped over the broken pieces carefully, her eyes searching
desperately along the pathway. There was no sign of crew members, no
bodies upon the floor, no personnel, injured or otherwise. The Vulcan
coughed mildly as the murky, cloudy air began to congest her lungs.
She scampered up the corridor hastily, headed for Sickbay.

Time seemed an eternity as T'Pol struggled through the infinite halls
of the starship in a dire pursuit to reach her bond mate. Her eyes
squinted toward the end of her current path and visualized the doors
of Sickbay drawing near. She pushed a hand forcefully upon the
entranceway and opened the portal with an abrupt thump. T'Pol scanned
the room methodically, searching carefully for Trip. Her eyes halted
at the sight of a biobed in the center of the room. A sheet stretched
over an unmoving form, covering the entire body from head to foot. One
hand dangled over the side, exposing several fingers from beneath the
blanket. T'Pol approached the figure slowly, her breaths quickening.
She gazed inquisitively at the hand for a moment, then closed her eyes
and exhaled mildly. T"Pol turned away from the body and looked about
the room, in a quick resumption of her hunt for Trip. In the corner,
near the hyperbaric chamber, Captain Archer and Dr. Phlox huddled
closely together, a look of dread shrouding their faces. She felt her
heart sink with fear, an emotion she couldn't quite entirely suppress
in that moment. T'Pol reached the chamber and pressed both hands
firmly against the opening. "I need to see him." The words were strong
and steady, her voice unwavering. "Let me see him please." Her voice
grew increasingly louder and urgent, her control slipping away.

Dr. Phlox took a step forward carefully, drawing himself nearer to
T'Pol. "He's been badly hurt, Commander," the doctor offered gently.
"His lungs need oxygen. If I remove him now. . . he may not survive."

T'Pol steeled herself and spoke calmly. "He is summoning me, Doctor. I
feel his need through our bond. I must see him. . . now. It will be brief,
you have my word."

The doctor stared back at her sympathetically and nodded gently. "Very
well. But, please be as succinct as possible. He can not be out of
that chamber for very long in his present condition."

T'Pol nodded weakly. "Agreed."

Phlox placed his index finger on the switch and compressed the button
slowly. The table slid out gradually, as Trip's beaten form emerged
quietly from the chamber in a twisted heap. T'Pol approached the flat,
metal bed, her eyes examining her fallen partner intensively. The skin
of his neck and chest were burned severely, his body scorched from the
fire, its tissue raw and a sickening red. Clear fluid oozed from the
torn skin and slowly depleted him of much needed hydration. His hair
was tousled and singed with black, its blonde color coated with a
thick layer of gray ash and soot. Trip's shirt was tattered and ripped
open. It hung loosely from his damaged chest, exposing his deep and
brutal wounds. He wheezed uncontrollably, fighting for air and then
sprung open his eyes with a start.

Their eyes met and locked together. Hazel burned deeply into blue.
T'Pol stared through the clear, cerulean color, permitting herself to
fall into Trip's soul, momentarily uninhibited and free. The
connection between Vulcan and Human grew stronger, more intense and
powerful.

Trip's mouth began to quiver, his lips attempting to form words. T'Pol
caressed his head serenely, her fingers gently grazing the soft skin
of his forehead and cheek. "Don't attempt to speak. You must rest and
restore your health." She squinted and clenched her face slightly,
struggling to maintain control. "Our child will need its father."

Trip nodded his head painfully, somehow managing a slight smile.
"Sorry. . . Sorry I messed up your weddin'plans."

He began to gasp softly.

"Shhh. . . please Trip." T'Pol took a few steps back and moved her hand
from the injured man's face, looking to Dr. Phlox. The doctor nodded
and approached the table. Trip and T'Pol maintained eye contact as the
door slid open. Trip's fear and confusion filled her senses. He gazed
at her pleadingly, parched lips mouthing something inaudibly, the
words jumbled and unclear. A trembling hand extended toward her from
the slowly shifting table but T'Pol could only grasp the tips of her
mate's fingers briefly, as the fallen engineer slipped silently down
the long and narrow tube and disappeared from her sight.

T'Pol turned toward the Doctor, her voice wavering slightly. "Will he
survive?"

Phlox looked back at her somberly. "I have no way of predicting that.
He's lost a lot of fluid. His lungs have been damaged. If we can keep
him on Oxygen and rehydrate him. . . it's possible. The Commander is a
young man and in excellent health. It really depends on just how
resilient he is. If he makes it through the next twenty four to forty
eight hours, his odds will certainly improve."

"Please do not let him die." T'Pol said, almost pleading.

"I'll do everything possible to give him the best chance and that is
all I can do."

"Thank you, Doctor. I know that you will."

---
Chapter Five
---

The bell sounded out, jarring Captain Archer from his concentration.
He laid the small paper held in his hands down upon the table and rose
from his chair, approaching the entrance to his quarters. He stopped
short of the door and spoke faintly. "Come in." There was a gentle
swooshing and then T'Pol stood silently before him. She walked in; her
hands folded behind her back as she approached Archer calmly.

"I wish to apologize, Captain."

Archer gazed back at her, his face crunched slightly in confusion.
"For what, T'Pol?"

"My behavior after the incident with Commander Tucker was. . . illogical. I
should have never left the bridge. You ordered me to be in command. . . "

Archer took a step forward and looked into her eyes sincerely.
"Personally, T'Pol, I think your actions under the circumstances were
warranted. You were unable to contact me or Trip. . . " He sighed and
smiled reassuringly. "It was a difficult time for all of us. I'm sure
you used your best judgment before making that decision."

T'Pol nodded and looked down at the floor in contemplation. "Commander
Kelby. . . what would cause him to commit such a sinful act?"

"No one really knows the answer to questions like that. Apparently, he
had some sort of vendetta against Trip. Kelby wanted to be Chief
Engineer and the one person who always stood in his way was Trip.
Vulcans aren't the only species whose emotions can become out of
control. It can happen to humans as well. . . "

"But how did he obtain the materials?"

"Crazy minds can also be the most resourceful and the most ingenious. . . a
shame really. He had such a bright future ahead of him with
Starfleet." Archer noticed T'Pol's gaze distance away, her mind
obviously elsewhere. "How's Trip doing?" he questioned with genuine
concern.

"Improving. . . his lungs are beginning to heal. Dr. Phlox says it's a
miracle that he is still alive. The Doctor is going to stay at the
medical center with us at the base until Trip is well enough to be
discharged."

Archer couldn't help but smile at her use of Trip's nickname. He
wondered if she even realized she had done it. "Well, leave it to Trip
to cause such a commotion just a few days before my speech. I'll have
stop by prior to the big address and give him hell for it." The
Captain chuckled softly at the thought, feeling a great sense of
relief that he would be given the opportunity. "If you'll excuse me,
T'Pol," Archer said, stifling his laughter. "I really need to finish
writing this. I'm sure you want to get back to him."

"Yes," she stated simply, with a nod and exited.

T'Pol stepped briskly through the hallway on the familiar path to
Sickbay. It was a walk she made many times over the past several days.
The Vulcan had struggled mightily to maintain her stoic demeanor in
the face of her bond mate's brush with death. One emotion she sensed
lurking now was relief. T'Pol was comforted that Trip had fought so
valiantly for his life. Knowing that her partner would be able to
share part of the future with her and their child filled the Science
Officer with a sense of peacefulness and tranquility. T'Pol quashed
the thought of the feelings which smoldered heavily beneath her
suppressive Vulcan disposition. She focused on the approaching doors
of Sickbay, attempting to regain a consummate control.

Dr. Phlox stood over Trip, a careful eye studying him thoroughly, and
ran a medical scanner diligently along the entire length his body.
T'Pol entered and stood next to Phlox, fixing her gaze on the young
engineer resting on the biobed.

"How is the patient feeling today?" she inquired, scanning her
partner's face.

Trip managed a meager smile. "A helluva lot better than I was three
days ago. . . It still hurts like hell to breathe and these burns are
killin' me." He turned his head toward the Doctor. "Ya got some more
high-powered stuff in that little bag of yours, Doc?"

"Ahhh. . . you're such a fine patient, Commander Tucker. Quite frankly,
with third degree burns over more than twenty percent of your body,
you're extremely fortunate to have the privilege of feeling that
pain." The Denobulan paused briefly, the events of the past several
days rushing through his mind. "It is truly amazing that you are
recovering so well. . . or for that matter that you survived at all."

"I made a real quick bolt for the door once I realized time had run
out. . . " Trip explained.

"Still. . .  you're a very lucky man, Commander. And as for your health,
well I would expect you to experience discomfort and weakness for some
time. Your body lost a lot of fluid. The escharotomy and skin graft
procedure I performed will take a substantial number of days to heal.
There will likely be some scarring along your neck and chest. As for
your lungs, some of the damage appears to be permanent. Your air
capacity will probably always be slightly diminished. Unfortunately, I
don't believe you'll be able to resume your duties as Chief Engineer,
I'm afraid," he added, sadly.

"Guess Kelby got what he wished for in a way, huh?" Trip looked
dejected momentarily, but then his face brightened as his eyes locked
onto his Vulcan mate. "T'Pol and I had different plans, anyhow. As
long as I've got enough air in my pipes to chase some little ones
around, I'll be good to go, Doc."

The Doctor smiled back at Trip, appreciating his optimism. "Well, if
you'll excuse me, Commander Tucker and Commander T'Pol, I'm going to
do a little last minute packing. We should be arriving at Earth in
mere hours. And, as you both know, we will need to remain there for an
extended period until Mr. Tucker has regained sufficient health. In
the meantime, I'll try to locate some stronger pain medication for
you, Commander."

"Thanks, Doc." Trip moved his eyes to T'Pol, who stood silently near
the edge of the biobed. "How are you feelin'?" he inquired, sensing
some discomfort emanating from the Vulcan. "You know. . . bein' that you're
expectin' and all."

"I'm feeling fine, thank you." She glanced away and steeled herself.
Trip remembered this gesture. He'd seen it many times before, despite
all of her efforts to hide it from him. He recognized the slight
movement of her head, followed by the downward gaze and tightening of
her body. There were times when it was best to let her alone without
pushing the issue, but Trip knew this time it was different.

"T'Pol? What is it?" His voice was raspy and weak.

She looked at him briefly and then turned away, gulping mildly. "These
past few days have been. . . challenging."

"Well, they haven't exactly been a fly around the galaxy doin' warp
seven for me either, Darlin'," he quipped, with a slight gleam in his
eye. Trip sighed softly. "Why does it have to be so damn hard for you
to talk to me? Just tell me what's bothering you. I won't snitch on
ya, I promise." He began to cough lightly, each wave bringing a sharp
sting beneath his ribs.

She took a step forward and pushed gently into the side of the medical
table, eyes focused on Trip. "My reaction to your near death
experience was. . . unexpected. Apparently, I've grown quite attached to
you, as a Vulcan would to their mate."

"But isn't that exactly what we are T'Pol? Mates? As you so eloquently
put it? Isn't that what I am to you? Your mate?" He breathed slowly
and winced, a dull pain spreading across his chest. "I gotta ask you
something, T'Pol. It's somethin' I always wondered about but never
quite had the guts to mention. Do you. . . " he stammered anxiously, "Do
you. . .  have you ever. . .  felt anything for me? I mean, actually felt it? I
know. . . you're a Vulcan."

T'Pol raised both eyebrows and stared back at him, unflinching. "What
is it exactly that you wish to know, Trip?"

"Have you ever, for even a second. . . " He rolled his eyes and gazed
upwards at the ceiling in pensive thought. "When I was lyin' in that
chamber, thinkin' I was gonna die. . .  the only thing on my mind was. . . 
you." He turned his head back toward T'Pol, his eyes glowing, despite
their slightly sunken in and fatigued appearance. "I thought about how
I just wanted to be able to look into your eyes again. How I just
wanted to touch you and kiss you. . . " He stopped talking for a moment and
relaxed his eyes into hers. The hazel softened into his blue, an
eternal link of bonded souls. Trip felt his heart jump. "I love you,
T'Pol," he whispered simply and powerfully, each word swelling with
emotion.

T'Pol stared back at Trip, unmoving. She blinked several times and
spoke in a hushed tone, her voice cracking slightly. "You think I did
not know this?"

"No, I was pretty sure you did. I. . . I just wanted to say it."

"And so you have. . . " her words trailed off quietly as she made a mental
imprint of the tender expression of Trip's features. He was obviously
worn from the injuries he had endured. His face was drawn and his skin
was tinged slightly grey, with bandages wrapped loosely around his
shoulders and neck. And yet, she couldn't recall a time when he
appeared more visually pleasing to her.

"You never answered my question, T'Pol. Have you ever felt anything
for me?"

"I agreed to marry you, did I not?"

"That isn't what I asked."

T'Pol sighed, in defeat. "I am Vulcan, Trip. We don't feel emotions in
the way humans do. We are taught not to. They are present, but are
usually deeply suppressed. There are moments when feelings may bleed
through, but those moments are typically brief for most. Vulcans are
individually unique, just as humans are. For some, it is more
difficult to fend off these emotions. My mother once told me that my
emotions were always close to the surface. Her assessment was correct. . . 
Although I may not feel love in the manner that you do, I am certainly
aware of love. And I have become aware of it on more than one occasion
over the past several days."

Trip stared back at her with piqued interest. "Really? When?"

"It was very displeasing to see you in such peril. . . and pain. If there
is a time when I sense my emotions, it is usually when I look into
your eyes. . . "

Trip gulped, knowing this was a huge revelation for her. He could
sense a slight uneasiness emerging. "You mean, like you're doing right
now?"

"Yes. . . " T'Pol answered, her eyes still intensely focused on his.

"I hope we're not interrupting anything." The Vulcan startled
momentarily at the disruption. The voice came from the entrance as
Malcolm, Hoshi and Travis walked in, casually.

"Not at all," T'Pol replied, turning to face the threesome.

"We just wanted to drop by before we got to Earth," Lieutenant Reed
stated, his eyes moving from the Vulcan Commander to the Human
Commander. "We'll all be attending the Captain's speech and then
heading off to our new assignments."

"So what's the big news? Where are you guys headed?" Trip inquired.

Malcolm smiled and stepped forward. "The Columbia, ironically enough,
Trip. And you may now refer to me as Commander Reed."

"A promotion? That's great news, Malcolm. Captain Hernandez will be
lucky to have you." He turned his head, moving it gingerly across the
sheets and focused his eyes upon young Ensign Sato. "What about you,
Hoshi? You a Lieutenant now?"

Hoshi laughed, a broad smile crossing her face. "Don't I wish. . . no,
actually, I'm going back into teaching. These past ten years on
Enterprise have been wondrous and exciting, but my passion has always
been for instructing young minds."

"Well, it has to be easier than tryin' to communicate with new species
all the time, I suppose. I'm sure you'll do real well." He paused and
moved his gaze toward Ensign Mayweather. "And what about you Travis?
What's the future hold for a bright young man like you?"

Travis stood erect and proud, a bright grin shining over his face. "I
have been promoted to Lieutenant, Commander Tucker."

"Wow, well isn't that somethin'? Everybody's movin' up in the world."
Trip looked at his three friends, with a twinge of sadness. "It's been
a great run. I sure am gonna miss you guys."

They all nodded in agreement, approaching the bed. Lieutenant Reed
lifted his arm and extended a hand toward his comrade. Their eyes met
as Trip clasped onto Malcolm's palm in a gentle farewell shake. "Good
luck to both of you," Reed stated sincerely, glancing over to T'Pol
with a slight smile. He winked at Trip, leaning over the bed, and
whispered, "Guess you're the lucky guy with rights to that nice bum. . . "

Trip smirked with a laugh and then grabbed at his chest. "God,
Malcolm. Please don't make me laugh. It hurts like hell. Only got half
a lung now, you know. . . "

"Sorry, Trip. I'll see you around, all right?" He smiled mildly,
taking in this bittersweet moment and then exited. Travis and Hoshi
followed, offering a quick handshake and some parting words to their
crewmates, before departing. Just as they were walking out, Captain
Archer appeared in the doorway.

"Aw, hell, can't a wounded guy get some rest around this place?" Trip
sounded out, teasingly.

Archer smiled down at his friend. "It's good to see you haven't lost
your sense of humor. How are you feeling? You still look a little
rough around the edges."

"Just happy to be alive, Sir. Thanks for helping me out. . . getting' me
down here when you did. Doc said a few more minutes without Oxygen
and, well. . .  you'd probably be havin' my funeral about now."

"Well, we couldn't let that happen, now could we Trip? Although,
carrying you would have been easier if you were a bit lighter. You
need to lay off that pecan pie. . . it's a backbreaker."

"What I wouldn't give for a taste of it now. . . Sorry I won't get to see
your speech, Cap'n. I'm gonna be laid up a while, I guess."

"Yes, and I was telling T'Pol earlier that you picked a great time for
all of this. Trying to steal some of my thunder, are you Trip?" Archer
joked.

"Don't be ridiculous, Cap'n."

Archer put a hand delicately on Trip's arm, being careful not to touch
any burns, and smiled humbly. "I'll be up there for all of us, Trip.
There are supposed to be dignitaries from eighteen different
worlds. . . Well. . . we'll be arriving at space dock within the hour, so I'd
better get going. Wish me luck."

"Knock 'em dead, Cap'n." The Engineer smiled softly at his Captain,
knowing full well he would probably never see him again. Archer lifted
his hand from Trip's arm and then brought it back down with a gentle
pat. He turned toward T'Pol.

"I trust that you'll keep him in line?"

T'Pol folded her arms behind her back and glanced over at Archer.
"Always, Sir," She paused a moment and then took a few steps forward,
moving closer to him. "Good luck, Captain."

Archer raised a hand to her shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Thank you,
T'Pol." Their eyes locked together briefly, in one last parting look.
The Captain broke the gaze and began to move slowly toward the door.
Just as he reached the exit, he turned and said, almost as an order,
"I want to see pictures of that baby, understood?"

"Yes, Sir." The words were spoken simultaneously, from the Vulcan and
Human, as a declaration of unity to their friend. Captain Jonathan
Archer smiled and walked briskly through the doorway, disappearing
down the hall and into history.

---
Chapter Six
----

Trip Tucker ran his fingers slowly along his bare chest, tracing the
rough, thick patches of skin with a careful touch. He stared ahead at
the mirror in front of him, with a slight resignation and sighed
softly. The explosion aboard Enterprise the month before had left him
with some unsightly scars which did not please him.

"Is there something wrong?" Trip jumped slightly and turned to see
T'Pol gazing at him intensely. He shook his head marginally and sat
down on the medical bed with his face directed toward the floor.

"Just tryin' to get used to my new look. . . You sure you want to be seen
around Vulcan with a Human that looks like me? I mean everyone might
think I'm some deformed alien or somethin'."

"What do you mean? You are not deformed. There have merely been some
injuries to your skin. Does this upset you?"

"Well, of course it does. I wouldn't want you to. . . " He paused and
smiled lightly, shaking his head from side to side, his tongue pressed
firmly into his cheek. "Forget it. It doesn't matter."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Are you concerned that I. . . may
find you less visually appealing?"

Trip couldn't help but laugh. "Well, something like that. . . "

"I assure you there is no cause to worry. Our connection is not merely
a physical one. It is also spiritual."

"So you do think I look like hell. . . "

"I do not understand."

"I said just forget it."

T'Pol blinked, slightly confused. She paced the room for a moment and
then walked over to the bed, stopping in front of Trip. "I did not
mean to upset you. Humans seem to need a great deal of reassurance,"
she mused aloud. "Very well then. . . I have always found your appearance
to be...quite pleasing to the eyes. That has not changed now because
of some minor imperfections."

Trip looked back at her silently. "If I just could have gotten that
last wire. . . a few more seconds and I'd of had it. Just a few more
seconds. . . "

"It is illogical to place the blame on yourself, Trip. You saved the
ship and its crew. Do not ever forget that. If you had not disabled
that explosive device. . . everyone would surely have died, including
myself and Captain Archer."

Trip nodded his head slightly, listening to her words. He gazed at her
solemnly. "I can't imagine being without you, T'Pol," the young man
whispered tenderly.

"Are we ready to proceed?" a voice interrupted, not allowing the
Vulcan a chance to respond. Dr. Phlox had entered the room unbeknownst
to his former crewmates. Trip reached for a shirt that lay crumpled on
the bed and quickly slipped it over his head.

"I'm ready, Doc," Trip stated with enthusiasm. He turned toward his
Vulcan bond mate. "You ready, T'Pol?

"Yes."

"All right, T'Pol," Phlox stated," I want you to lie down on the table
here and lift your shirt for me."

"Hey, watch it, Doc," Trip snorted in jest.

"Relax, Mr. Tucker, it's just part of the procedure. We will not be
able to see the young fetus with any clothing in the way.
Unfortunately, my scanner doesn't work too well through cotton." He
flashed Trip a quick, sarcastic grin and then helped guide T'Pol down
onto the table. She moved her shirt upward, revealing a slightly
rounded bulge in her abdomen. "Ahhh. . .  you have begun to show. This is a
good sign that the baby is growing properly," the Doctor stated with a
reassuring smile. "Now let's take a look, shall we?" He looked up for
a moment, glancing at Trip. "Commander, can you get the lights
please?"

"Sure thing." Trip jumped up and hurried to the switch, flicking it
off. He dashed back and stood anxiously behind Dr. Phlox, his eyes
peering over the Denobulan's shoulder. "Mmmph," Phlox grunted, giving
Trip a somewhat irritated glare.

"A little space please, Commander," the Doctor requested sternly.

A look of remorse spread over the expectant father's face. "Oh, sorry.
Guess I'm just a little excited." He smiled bashfully and took a few
steps back.

"Mmm. . . well that is to be expected." Phlox glided the medical instrument
along T'Pol's skin, his eyes fixed on the large, square receiver
before him. The profile of a tiny head came into focus, as a
silhouette against the background screen. Two small hands moved
vigorously in every direction, their tiny fingers distinct and
perfect. The baby floated and bounced about, arms flailing and legs
kicking. The doctor slid the scanner down and focused on the unborn
child's chest. A small, white rounded area pulsated rhythmically
within the petite body.

Trip felt a lump form tightly in his throat as his eyes stared at the
tiny life he helped create. He gulped, trying to swallow his emotions,
but swiftly recognized the burning moisture that pooled in his tender
blue eyes. A single tear trickled down his cheek and fell silently to
the floor. There was a sudden sense of pride that encompassed him; a
feeling of completion and awe.

T'Pol turned her head from the picture screen and fixed her eyes onto
her partner. A strong wave of fulfillment fell over her as she sensed
Trip's thoughts. His eyes stared through her as their minds touched
gently. For a brief moment there was a catch in her chest. Perhaps it
was the slight glistening of his cool azure tinted eyes or the mild
upward curve of his lips or the pure comfort that transcended her when
he was near. . . T'Pol didn't know. But she felt certain that just beneath
the surface of her stoic Vulcan demeanor, a love flourished for this
man.

"Would you like to know the sex?" the Doctor questioned, once again
interrupting the couple.

Trip stood unmoving, his gaze still focused on T'Pol. He blinked and
broke contact with her, looking back to the squirming figure on the
monitor. "Let's wait and be surprised," he stated, with a quick smile.

"You wish to wait?" T'Pol didn't expect this from Trip. "I have been
often told that Humans insist on having instant gratification," the
Vulcan quipped, somewhat surprised.

Trip chuckled under his breath and crossed his arms. "Well, if that
were true, Darlin', you and I would've never hooked up in the first
place."

She tipped her head in realization. "Indeed," she returned, giving a
slight nod of concurrence.

Phlox clicked off the video screen and lifted his medical scanner from
T'Pol's abdomen. "Everything looks perfect. The baby is growing
normally and appears quite active and healthy. Congratulations. I'm
sure the two of you will make fine parents." He paused and placed a
hand along Trip's arm, with a smile. "It must be a great pleasure to
finally be able to go home. Being cooped up in a medical facility for
more than a month could have detrimental affects on a life form of any
species. When are you and T'Pol scheduled for transport to Vulcan?"

Trip glanced down at his watch. "In about twenty minutes, Doc."

"Twenty minutes? Well, I guess the two of you had better get going
then."

"Look, Doc, I want you to know how much I appreciate what you've done
for me. . . stayin' here away from your family for a month. . . I just want to
thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure, Commander. I'm happy that you have recovered
so well. I'm off to Denobula myself later today. My three wives are
waiting for me." He paused and flashed his patented ear to ear grin.
"Good luck to the both of you."

'Thanks, Doc."

T'Pol nodded her head toward Phlox appreciatively. "Thank you,
Doctor."

Several hours later, aboard the transporter to Vulcan, a silence
filled the air. Only the soft muttering of several passengers in the
nearby distance and the delicate hum of running engines could be
heard. Trip sat beside T'Pol, the two somewhat secluded from the other
travelers. His eyes fixed upon her face, as he took note of how quiet
she had been for over an hour. "So, you happy to be goin' back to
Vulcan?" he whispered, startling her briefly from the reverie. "Oh,
wait. . . check that." He rolled his eyes upward in pensive thought, taking
delight as he always did, in these little games. "Are you content, you
know, like a Vulcan would be?" She looked back at him and nodded,
saying nothing. Trip crinkled his face in confusion. He turned his
head and scanned the compartment with a quick glance. Upon seeing that
the other occupants aboard were all distracted, Trip slid his hand
cautiously onto T'Pol's. He skimmed the warm, soft skin with his
fingertips and squeezed lightly. The young man smiled tenderly at his
partner with glowing eyes. "You're not havin' second thoughts about
this, are you T'Pol?"

"Of course not. I have already made my decision."

"Well, then, what's the trouble, Darlin'?"

"There is no. . . trouble. I am merely relaxing."

"Oh," Trip returned. He glanced down at their clasped hands and felt a
warmth wash serenely over him. He could sense T'Pol's calmness and
peaceful satisfaction. Trip sighed softly, appeased by his mate's
comfort. "Do you think the universe is ready for us, T'Pol?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know. . . a Vulcan and a Human couple. . . soon to be 
married . . with a child. . . "

T'Pol nodded, in understanding, and pondered his question for a
moment. "I do not think the galaxy has a choice. Everyone will have to
learn to accept us in the same manner as they must learn to accept one
another."

"But, we're so different. . . "

"Yes. . . and that is precisely why it is so meaningful and important. 
. . not for just us. . . but for all species. We must appreciate and
respect our disparities in order to find the balance to live 
harmoniously." The Vulcan paused as she gazed into Trip's eyes. She
felt the pleasant touch of his hand embracing hers. T'Pol moved her
head closer to him, her face mere inches from his and spoke softly.
"You and I have found that balance, have we not?"

Trip tipped his head slightly, reacting to her words. "Yeah, I guess
we have. It's kind of like that necklace you have. . . the one your mother
gave you. What's that called again?"

"It is an IDIC necklace. It means infinite diversity in infinite
combinations." She paused, in thought. "When I read the Captain's
speech, I discovered that he wrote about having a dream. He had a
vision. . . a vision of a peaceful world, a tolerant world. . . " 
T'Pol looked at Trip, clutching his hand tightly. "The Captain may
have aspired to that type of future, but you and I, Trip. . . we are
living it. We are the future. Our baby symbolizes hope. . . the same
hope that Elizabeth was. . . ohh. . . " T'Pol shifted in her chair,
obviously disturbed by something.

"What is it?" Trip questioned anxiously.

"I believe I have been kicked."

Trip smiled brightly. "What? You felt the baby move?"

"Correction, Trip. I am feeling the baby move."

"You mean right now? This second?"

T'Pol lifted Trip's hand gently and placed his palm delicately down
upon her abdomen. Her belly quivered slightly through Trip's touch.
His face lit up with wonder after each successive jolt. Trip smiled at
his mate, a hand gently rubbing her dancing skin. It was a smile
typical of him, lips curved upward in a tender display of happiness.
His entire face beamed at her, his bright blue eyes glistening, his
cheeks flushed a soft pink. T'Pol knew that she and Trip hadn't
reached Vulcan yet, but in that moment she discovered that she was
already home.

---

Final Note: Well, for those of you who made it this far, I hope you
are not drowning in the sap.

---

The End