World of Ice

Chapter 6 - Heartbeat

A/N Short recap of the story: Trip is sent on a secret mission, but is caught by Orions and sold as slave to the Romulans to work on Farel Moon. Meanwhile, Starfleet believes Trip is dead and declares that his death is an accident, but when T'Pol meets Trip in her white space she discovers he is alive.

Part one of this chapter takes place just after Trip's arrival at Farel Moon (see chapter 4). The other parts take place after the meeting of Trip and T'Pol in their white space and shortly before T'Pol contacts Jon (chapter 5).

This story is a sequel to The Captives. In that story Malcolm Reed's girlfriend, a Starfleet engineer, was killed by Ellen Tenson, later exposed to be a Romulan spy.

Thanks to my awesome beta EntAllat.

Part one

City of Melpuk, Torian province, planet of Velok, part of the Romulan Empire, one day after Trip arrives at Farel Moon

Black. He was running out of time. High Command was getting impatient and he needed to act soon. As Delon, son of Velok, grandson of Hertok of the clan of Ten walked into the great building, his mind was settled. He needed to have a new plan and to take action now.

He crossed the square with its huge pillars and then took the stairs to the first floor. On both sides of the marble stairs the walls were decorated with large polished metal strips that almost served as mirrors. He saw his own reflection: raven black hair, a spotless black uniform that clung to him to him like a second skin, the shining boots. Finally he reached the Observation room. “Status rapport,” he demanded as he walked in.

His sister Felena stood up at once from her desk where she had been studying the new surveillance data from Farel Moon, and saluted him.  She was a beautiful Romulan woman: long black hair, brown eyes. She always had been fully focused on the needs of the Empire and that of their clan. He had been proud of her. She had served the Empire for more than 40 years under the most difficult circumstances: spying on Earth under those inferior Humans, pretending to be one, even having a Human lover. But his feeling of pride had vanished. She had failed in her mission on Earth, forced to return to Romulan soil and he had noticed her old iron heart had developed some weak spots.

“Tucker has settled on Farel Moon,” Felena reported. “He has found some new friends that are willing to protect him if necessary.“ She showed him Tucker's new friends: An Andorian, a Tellerite and a Heterian woman called Mita, and a Vulcan named V'Ran. The last one was a former Vulcan officer who’d been lost in the Dosa system years ago and served as slave for the clan of Kel on Heteria. Mita had Romulan ancestors, but was mostly Heterian - a Vulcan sub-species - the first settlers on Heteria. She was also a follower of Kirak, like most of those fools. He felt the taste of disgust in his mouth. Kirakites undermined Romulan society with their destructive ideas. 

He couldn't fathom how anyone would believe those ideas. A piercing pain went through him. He had lost his eldest son and youngest daughter because of Kirak. It had made him a disgrace in the eyes of the High Command and of his clan. But not for long. He would have his revenge.

Felena finished her report. “So the situation has gotten worse,” he concluded. “We should have killed Tucker when the Orions caught him, but you wanted him to work as a slave on Farel. Tucker is of no use and if his friends inform him about Kirak, he will be an obstacle to finding Kirak, and not a help.”

“He is the bait, Delon,” Felena assured him. “Humans don’t leave their comrades behind. Tucker is like a brother to Archer and he is the husband of T'Pol. They will come after him. And if they do, you will get your hands on the founder of the Coalition and lure Kirak out of hiding.  You will have them both. You will be victorious.”

He couldn't listen to her speak any more. “Can't you see you base your plans on the wrong assumptions? All your plans have failed. We tried to trick T'Pol into going to the Dosa system with a so-called personal message from her father. She didn't answer. Then, when the opportunity rose again, we incriminated Archer's father and T'Pol. You said Archer would make it his personal mission to travel to the planet where the data was found and would try every means to get his father's name cleared. You said it would be the perfect chance to capture Archer, the founder and president to be of the Coalition. We also would have T'Pol. With his daughter in danger, Kirak would be lured out of hiding, for us to find. We would be indeed glorious.”

He glared at his sister. “But Archer never came. Your plan failed. They sent Tucker instead. You told me nothing was lost, that we could use Tucker. You're wrong again!  A Romulan would go through the fires of the galaxy to save a brother.  Archer didn't even bother to look for his body!”

He turned to Felena, feeling only coldness for her. ”You have failed, like you failed on Earth. You have disgraced Romulus, our clan and your family.”

He saw the blood drain from her face, knowing he had insulted her on the deepest level. He was aware that her humiliation weighed heavy on her soul.  However, when she turned to him, her eyes, burning with the flames of rage, bore into his. He knew then that she would do everything to prove she was still the best spy Romulus ever had.

He could use that. An idea came into his head and developed into a new strategy. He laid his hand on her shoulder as a peace offering. She looked at his hand if it was dirty and remained silent, too angry to speak. “There's a way to solve all of this, sister,” he said softly, removing his hand. “And accomplish our mission.”

Felena frowned as if she wondered if she heard him right. He explained further. “We can still catch Archer and T'Pol. But someone must convince Archer to go after Tucker and find him. He must be told Tucker is alive, with irrefutable evidence.”

He gave her a sharp look. “You must be that messenger.  You could talk Archer into taking a mission to Farel Moon, together with T'Pol. Only than our plan can work.”

“I can't go back, you know that,” Felena interrupted. “They knew who I am.”

“Felena, you're a brilliant when it comes to changing your appearance,” Delon replied with a short smile. “They expect a middle-aged woman with red hair with gray strokes, our doctor can change you into a young woman, complete with blond hair and blue eyes or into some one that even our mother wouldn't recognize as you. Combined with a new name and false papers, no one will know it's you.”

He could see she was tempted, longing for the thrill of a mission, to prove she was a distinguished member of the clan of Ten by giving the Empire it’s most wanted enemies: Archer and Kirak.

Felena straightened up. “I will make the arrangements.”

Part two

Suddenly she had been there. It was a comfortable place, as if she was hidden and protected from danger.  A world of her own. Blackness and warm water surrounded her. She spent her days almost fully in slumber, feeling content. In the background there was bubbling sounds and a wonderful steady rhythm, a beautiful drum that made her feel safe. She wasn't aware of anything more, only that she longed to grow.

Earth, San Francisco – Amanda Cole's apartment, the guest room, four weeks after Trip's disappearance and one day after Trip and T'Pol meet in the white space

Black.  T'Pol woke up. Her eyes opened to the darkness that surrounded her. Quickly she searched for her meditation candle and lit it. A soft orange light spread out across the room. The blackness was gone and only shadows remained. T'Pol breathed slowly in and out. She had been dreaming, erratic dreams in which she found Trip, but lost him again.

She continued to breathe in and out and slowly her equilibrium restored itself. She found it strange that she would be dreaming so vividly, almost like a nightmare.

T'Pol stared into the flame. Was this the after effect of the time behind her, when sadness had been her constant companion, when an overwhelming feeling of grief that had torn her down?

It was now in past. The last few weeks she had felt empty, but now she was content. Last night, when she was meditating, something happened in her white space. It had changed into a snowstorm with gray flakes. Then she had seen him: Trip. His face had looked smaller and older, but it had been him: her adun.  The bond had sparkled between them and with all her heart she knew Trip was alive; she hadn’t wanted to let him go. He had begged her to find him.  She knew she would do everything to get him back home. Then, suddenly, her white space changed again into normal white clouds, the gray surroundings vaporized before her eyes and Trip vanished with them.

She was alone again, but no longer lonely.

T'Pol needed a plan to save Trip. Her quick mind formed a strategy: first she would form a team of people that would help her, while she uncovered as much information as possible about the circumstances and whereabouts of Trip. Then she would have to obtain a vessel with enough fire power to fend off any enemy between her and bringing Trip home.

A vessel that fit the need came to mind.

Enterprise.

Part three

In the blackness that was her home,she had noticed a change. She could think. She was aware of herself. That was the same. But now there was also another presence, ghostly, quietly in the background. It belonged to a person, that lovely sweet beat that had cradled her to sleep. She wanted to know more about this person, so her mind reached out. She was met with unrest, and the rhythm in the background started to drum a faster beat.

Black. T'Pol stood up. She needed to act. A strange headache started looming in the back of her mind, like the ones she had before. She walked toward the black communication device, placed on a small table in her room. Using the encrypted code Malcolm had given her, she tried to contact him.

“Reed,” Malcolm responded to her call.

“Lieutenant, it's me,” T'Pol said without revealing her name. “I have some important information and have formed a plan of action for which I require your assistance.”

“I understand,” Reed answered shortly. “You're not the only one. I have to finish something important and I will meet you at place X.”  With those words, he broke off.

T'Pol understood his message.  Place X meant Malcolm was coming to Cole's apartment to discuss matters with her. If she wasn't mistaken, and had correctly recognized the excitement coloring his voice, it was only logical to assume Malcolm had made a breakthrough in his investigation. 

She felt her headache intensify and a piercing pain seeped her brain.  A bad taste flooded her mouth and her hand flew to her mouth in an automatic gesture to keep the nausea inside. But she couldn't lie down again. She heard a sound in the nearby kitchen and a whiff of freshly made black coffee swirled into her room, making her feel worse.  That she had hardly eaten since yesterday didn't help either. “T'Pol, do you want breakfast?” Cole called from the kitchen. 

T'Pol's first impulse was to stay in her room, but she was aware that Human customs dictated the occasional sharing of mealtime. She was obliged to behave like a good guest, especially since Malcolm had asked Cole to let her stay – and hide - despite Cole's objections. Cole had been very clear that she didn't want to get in trouble with Starfleet and that she thought T'Pol should – as she put it – return to Starfleet and face the music. However, because she wanted to help Malcolm, Cole had allowed T'Pol to stay in the guest room, a quiet place to think about what to do next.

T'Pol entered the kitchen. Doctor Liz Cutler was sitting behind the kitchen table, chewing on her breakfast cereal and talking and laughing with Amanda at the same time. A pot of coffee was on the table. “Do you want some” Amanda asked, holding up a large cup.  T'Pol was about to decline – didn't the woman know Vulcans hardly drank coffee? – as the smell of the liquid  entered her nostrils and her stomach turned.

She barely made it to the bathroom  in time to expel what little was left from yesterday in her stomach. Shakily, she drank some water from the tap, using her hands, inhaled deeply and tried to look as neutral as possible as she returned.

As she walked back in the kitchen, both Amanda and Liz looked at her intently. “Sit down, T'Pol,” Liz said in her doctor’s voice, “I think we need to talk. Amanda and I are both worried about you.”

T'Pol wasn't sure about that last part, but Amanda nodded. “Look, T'Pol, I know nothing about Vulcans and I'm not a doctor, but you sure look a lot like my sister Angie a year back: you're exhausted, feeling sick in the morning, you hardly eat and don't seem to like what you eat – and I don't think my cooking has something to do with it.”

T'Pol thought her symptoms stemmed from her missing Trip, but she  didn't like the idea of sharing something so personal as her relationship with him  with Doctor Cutler and Cole. Reluctantly she explained, “Commander Tucker meant a great deal to me. His death had a great impact.” She thought it would be enough information, but then it hit her.  She had assumed that her condition was the result of her grieving over Trip's death and the bond being broken. But since last night, she knew Trip was alive - and so was their bond.

“I understand, T'Pol,” Liz said. She gave T'Pol a sad smile. “But I don't think all of your symptoms are related to your grieving for him.”

“Angie felt the same way, just before she found out Todd was on the way,” Amanda explained. “He’s now a healthy baby-boy,” she added.

T'Pol blinked. The thought of being pregnant had crossed her mind, but she hadn't dared to hope.  The last test had been negative and, to her discomfort she had to admit that her grief over her bondmate had made her feel so miserable and disconnected, it had clouded her logic.  “I am not pregnant,” she told the two friends. “At least not the last time I did a test.”

Liz nodded. “I know about the failed test. But the symptoms are there. What about headaches? Do you have them?  I see you pinch your eyes every now and then.”

The pounding, piercing pain in her head had been hard to ignore. It was a sign of a bond being disturbed, but now she realized it had been more. She would find it hard to be disappointed again, but the fact remained: headaches were the first signal of an embryo and a mother building a telepathic link. It was the root of the bond between mother and child.

“I do have them,” she told Liz, who nodded.

“It is a classic indicator for a Vulcan pregnancy, as you no doubt are aware,” Liz said. “Your symptoms also appear to be somewhat extreme. We have seen in some interspecies pregnancies that the woman suffers from typical symptoms of both species combined, in an extreme way. Like the worst of both worlds.”

“I wasn't informed about this negative aspect of an interspecies pregnancy,” T'Pol remarked, thinking about all the files she studied on this subject. She wished they had noted something about this.

Amanda grimaced. “I think you forgot to give T'Pol the little bad details, Liz.”'

T'Pol couldn't respond, because Liz took charge. “Let's not make any further speculation before we do some tests. I only have training in the morning and a couple appointments scheduled in the afternoon. I can collect the material for the test at the hospital and we can do the tests here, after work.” Liz's voice became stern. “T'Pol, I don't have to tell you that in case you're pregnant, you and the baby need immediate medical care, perhaps even admission to the hospital. That will complicate matters, but we have to. If you're pregnant, this baby is too important.”

A sudden joy came over T'Pol. A child... it would explain her condition, her mood swings, her vivid dreams and strange overwhelming emotions. She longed to hear if her hope was founded. She nodded. “Please, doctor Cutler,” she said. “Proceed.”

Part four

Amanda's Cole apartment

Black. Amanda Cole stared at the computer screen in front of her, without seeing. She was sitting In her favorite place of the apartment, her black and white study, a cup of warm, black coffee in front of her, wanting to do some much needed and too many times postponed administration work.

Amanda had a couple days off and had planned all kind of activities at the home. However, her thoughts were not on the data in front of her, but about the events of this morning.

She couldn't help but feel excited. Amanda was surprised she felt that way. She didn't particularity liked her new guest, nor was she the kind of woman that went crazy seeing a baby or hearing someone was pregnant. But T'Pol's odd behavior had intrigued her and she liked to know if she had been right about the cause.

Deep down Amanda knew that wasn't the only reason for her mood. T'Pol had said that she had called Malcolm for  some important news and that he had told her he had some of its own. He was on his way over. Amanda liked Reed, and the prospect of seeing him in a couple of hours was a good one.

But then she concentrated on her task of that day and finally started typing.

A couple of hours went by.  Amanda had finished her administration and started to do the next thing on her list: cleaning the house. She put some music on and started with the bathroom. T'Pol came out her room and asked if she could – as she put it – be of assistance. Amanda declined, she’d rather work alone, even when it was more difficult with her artificial leg.  She took a break and had a small lunch, after which she continued with optimism in the kitchen and the living room.  She was almost done when Liz returned. The doctor had the material for the test with her and she disappeared to the guest room in which T'Pol had been resting. Amanda listened carefully to the noises: she could hear T'Pol and Liz talking , T'Pol making her way to the bathroom and returning to the guest room, Liz and T'Pol talking again and then hearing them coming out the room.

She walked toward them and knew straight away. Liz was wearing a grin from ear to ear and even T'Pol looked happy in her typical Vulcan way.

“And?” she asked the two.

“Doctor Cutler's test has confirmed I am with child,” T'Pol said. In spite of her rather formal remark, she sounded happy and relieved.

Liz got T'Pol a glass of water and then told her she would do a general health check. She got her black doctor's suitcase and both of them returned to the guest room.  Amanda could hear their voices again: Liz in full physician’s mode, saying “First we are going to measure your blood pressure.” T'Pol responded in a soft voice “Is the baby healthy?”. Liz's clear voice replied, “We can check that better in the hospital. First I wanted to make sure you're alright.”

Liz did a couple of more tests and seemed pleased by the results. As they walked out the room, Amanda asked if everything was okay. “Doctor Cutler had told me to take it slow and have plenty of rest,” T'Pol told her, “But I am in good health.”

At that moment the doorbell rang and when Amanda answered, it was Malcolm. As Reed entered the room, she noticed not for the first time what an attractive man he was, with his raven black hair and strongly built body. Amanda did enjoy the strange kind of friendship they had formed during the war. They had seen more of each other now T'Pol stayed at her place.

Malcolm carried a small, black suitcase. He looked rushed and tense. “Something the matter?” she asked.

“You could say that,” he said shortly. “Where are T'Pol and Liz?”  She explained and Malcolm went to get them. They all sat down in the living room.

“I have news,” Reed started, “And I don't know how to tell you, especially T'Pol.” He looked nervous.

The Vulcan woman raised an eyebrow and Malcolm took a deep breath and started. “Yesterday night I received a call from a stranger, telling me she’d heard about my secret investigation after Trip's death. She claimed that she had important information about Commander Tucker. I made an appointment this morning to meet her and she handed me three documents.”

He paused for a second. “One document is disturbing to see. You all are familiar with Arch-scanners?”

“Civilian surface scanners.” Amanda answered. “Archaeologists and geologists use them to search for valuables in the soil.”

Reed hesitated a moment before he continued. “The document in question contained a full Arch-scan from the burial site of Trip, including his coffin, made by this agent.”

It was like the air had been sucked out the room. Liz made a sound of disbelief and looked at Malcolm in shock. Amanda felt her anger rising. “What kind of sick joke is that? Why would she do such a thing and force you to look at last resting place of Tucker?” she asked, aware that T'Pol hadn't responded at all.

“Because this agent wanted to prove there was nothing in the coffin,” Reed answered. He was calmer now. “She claimed that she had evidence that Trip was alive and she wanted to give me the evidence to prove it.”

“She had what?” Liz responded, looking very excited. “That would be wonderful news!” Then Malcolm's words sank in. “But how is that possible? Can it be true, Malcolm? And how is this mystery woman that provided with the data? Is she for real?” Liz stared at Malcolm with big eyes, eager to hear more of what he had to say.

However, Amanda felt very uncomfortable. “We all were at his funeral!” she said, annoyed that Reed would believe such a story. “Commander Tucker died of a tragic accident. Starfleet has confirmed that,” she pointed out.

“I don't know any more, because according to this scan, there are no remains of a Human body in Tucker's coffin. Only space debris, an few medals and some PADD's.”

“He's alive,” T'Pol spoke for the first time. She was so calm, like it wasn't a surprise or shock for her. “His death was faked.”

“That doesn't make a lot of sense,” Amanda interrupted. “We all wish that Tucker was still alive, but do you really believe that Starfleet would fake the death of one of its most prominent officers?”

“Only if Starfleet felt it had to,” Malcolm answered calmly.  He opened his suitcase and took out a PADD. He showed the three women the images of the scan. “My theory, based on the information I’ve gathered so far, is that Commander Tucker was sent on a special mission of which I and T'Pol weren’t informed. His vessel was attacked and Starfleet couldn't find a body, only pieces of the ship. They believe he was killed during the battle. The powers in place decided it was better to say Tucker died in that accident. It saves a lot of questions and is the closest to the true. In their eyes he is dead, so what does it matter how it happened?”

Amanda stared at the images. “Do you know these images are real? And if they are where is Tucker? How can we be sure he's alive and not buried someplace else?” she remarked, hearing the skepticism in her own voice.

“We must check this scan with MIRU,” T'Pol suggested. “To make sure it’s authentic. You said there were more documents?”

“MIRU is a classified analyzing system, with the biggest data base of the Coalition, that was developed during the war,” Malcolm explained to Amanda. “I can still log in the system and hide my tracks at my place.” He took out another PADD for his black suitcase. “There are other documents. One contains surveillance footages of some kind of alien prison.”

He pressed a button and the screen showed some kind of mess hall. Men walked around or were sitting at tables, all dressed in gray uniform. Then the camera zoomed in on one table and Amanda could clearly identify the blond head of Charles Tucker. He was accompanied by a Vulcan male and female, an Andorian man and a Tellerite. They could hear part of their conversation. They talked in broken English mixed what Amanda assumed was Vulcan, but she could clearly hear an unmistakable Southern twang as Tucker spoke.

“What are they speaking?” she asked. “Is it Vulcan?”

“It is,” T'Pol confirmed. “Or Commander Tucker's special version of it. His Vulcan is reasonable, but you can still hear his accent when he speaks.”

“At least he speaks Vulcan,” Amanda remarked, somewhat peeved at T'Pol. “You seem pretty cool about seeing Tucker alive again. I would expect you to freak out in your own Vulcan kind of way.”

For a very brief moment the Vulcan woman looked uncomfortable. Amanda thought she also saw a greenish blush appear on her cheeks, but decided it was a figment of her imagination. “I always believed that Commander Tucker was alive, in spite of the evidence he wasn't… in my own Vulcan way,” T'Pol replied with an edge in her voice.

Her whole attitude annoyed Amanda. “That's a pretty emotional statement coming from a Vulcan.”

“Commander Tucker had that effect on people, we all wished he was alive,” Liz intervened. “This footage raises so many questions. Is it real? Is it recent? Where did it come from?” She pointed at the left hand corner. “There's some writing. What does it say?”

“We need to check this file in MIRU also for answers,” Malcolm said. “There's also a third file, an Orion document. I ran it through a translation program. It deals with the salvage of a Human vessel, a warp explosion and the selling of a slave. Hopefully a more detailed translation may provide us with more information about Commander Tucker.”

He stopped the footage and placed the PADD's back in his black suitcase. “My next point of action is to analyze these documents, like T'Pol suggested,” Malcolm said. “I think it's better that we do this with two of us. Two see more than one.”

“Why don't you asked some one outside Starfleet to look at the files, who isn't so close to Commander Tucker and can offer you a fresh look?” Liz bobbed her head in the direction of Amanda. “I always heard praises in Starfleet of Amanda's keen observation skills, her attention to detail. “ She smiled toward Amanda. “Plus you don't beat around the bush and ask the right questions.”

“That's a good suggestion,” Reed replied. Amanda's mind went back to her debriefing years ago, after the ambush of her team. She saw herself again, answering the questions asked with the most detail she could muster, making drawings of the situations and people she had seen. Malcolm obviously hadn't forgotten that moment, nor had she.

“Of course I will help you, but only if T'Pol is okay with it,” Amanda answered. She still had a hard time believing Malcolm's theory and wanted to see the data for herself.

“Doctor Cutler's observation is valid,” T'Pol responded, straightening up. Her voice was calm and sounded professional. For the first time since she had arrived, Amanda saw the old Commander T'Pol back in place. “In my experience Miss Cole is a keen observer.  I expect you both will be capable of extracting much more information about Commander Tucker's whereabouts.”

Amanda understood T'Pol was given her high praise indeed. She would never understand this woman who was so completely different than she. But she wasn't blind that T'Pol seemed to love Trip deeply and if she wasn't mistaken Trip shared the same feelings. In Vulcan terms they would probably be a married couple. She hardly contained a grin. No wonder Trip had been acting like he was cheating on T'Pol if he even talked to her.  She stood up. “I don't know if you can use our computer for this MIRU system, Reed,” she said. “But your place is being watched and you're here with all the data that we need to analyze.  I will show you the way to the study.”

As she did she realized she was on her way to prove that Trip Tucker – who she had thought had died of a tragic accident – wasn't so dead after all.  

Life was weird. She loved every minute of it.

Part five

The study

Black. Amanda loved being in her study. It wasdecorated in black and white, with now and then a shade of red. It had a black couch with large, white cushions with a red motive and black colored tables. The spacious study had white walls all around, a large black desk and a huge black closet and a black book shelves against the wall. The only color in the room came from a red desk lamp, books in bookshelves and pictures on the wall. On the desk stood a communication device. A couple of PADD's were lying around on the desk and she had forgotten to clean up a cup, that still contain some cold coffee.

Reed looked around in her study and he seemed to appreciate what he saw. Amanda had visited his place once and had noticed he had decorated the place in the same black and white colors as her study.

“Looks like your place, isn't it?” she said.

He pointed at her desk. “Except for the PADD's and that coffee cup,” Malcolm said in a teasing tone. She loved when he teased her.

“Yeah, your place is spotless,” she gave back with a smile. In fact if it hadn't been for the pictures Malcolm had hanging at his walls, the place would be a bit too clean and distant for her taste. Reed's pictures showed how he was: there were two of Reed and Captain Archer: one of the captain handing Malcolm a medal and one of Reed wearing his medal and looking proud, standing next to the captain, both of them smiling. Another picture had been  taken in a far less formal setting: Tucker and Malcolm, dressed in leisure clothing, sitting on a rock near a lake, smiling broadly, a beer in one hand and waving to the camera with the other.  The third picture had been of the original bridge crew of Enterprise: T'Pol and Archer in the front, Phlox standing behind them, with Malcolm and Hoshi Sato on the right and Tucker and that handsome boomer boy Travis on the left. The last picture that she had seen was much smaller than the others, it showed a young Malcolm and a young girl. Her features had resembled that of Reed and Amanda guessed she must be Maddie, Malcolm's younger sister. It was the only picture of family outside the crew of Enterprise and, not for the first time, Amanda had realized that for Malcolm Reed those people on that picture of the original crew were family for him, with Tucker as close to him as a brother.

Her memories of Reed's pictures at his home made her say “Tucker was your best friend, wasn't he, Reed? It that why you never accepted the explanation of his accident and death? Because it wasn't like him?''

“He had too much to live for, Amanda,” Malcolm answered, “and so many people saw him as a friend. He also knew that the death of his sister almost crippled his parents with grief.  That's why he never would put his life in danger in such a way.” Reed rubbed his forehead as wanting to chase away a headache. “But there were other things that were out of place,” he continued. “Why didn’t he call for help? Why would he place two relays together, when he knew that would get him killed? Years ago one of his engineers died, in almost the same way and Tucker told me that he never thought a good engineer would make such a mistake. ” A deep sadness crept into his voice and Amanda realized this event had affected him than he would let on.

Abruptly, Reed turned and gathered a chair. She placed herself on the desk chair, shoving it aside, and making room for Malcolm to sit behind the desk. It was time to get to business.  She logged in, Malcolm took over, trying to get into the system by passing several firewalls. After entering several codes and passwords they ended up in what looked like a Starfleet data system. In the corner four capital letters spelled MIRU.

“I never heard about this system,” Amanda remarked.

“You remember Ensign Sato,” Reed answered. ”After her hearing was damaged she got a classified assignment. With a little help from me, she developed this data analyzing system. It contains data from all the species of the Coalition, the largest library of the Coalition so to speak and has the ability to compare and analyze it all: voice recordings, books, pictures, personal files, scientific data, everything. Its voice recognition system is the best of the Coalition. It identifies specific accents in someone voice’s and compares it with someone's background, where someone grew up and lived. MIRU served us well during the war and I still can log in the system and get out without being detected.”

“What does MIRU stands for?” Amanda asked, curious.

Malcolm grinned. “They wanted to call the system CODAS, for Coalition Data Analyzing System. Hoshi hated that name; she wanted something different and original. She suggested the Japanese verb, miru which means “to see”.But officially it stands for Multi Intelligence Registration Unit.” He turned to her, answering her unspoken question. “Hoshi has a lot on her mind lately. I didn't want to drag her into this investigation.”

First they checked the scan of the burial site and coffin. It was taken recently and proved to be legitimate. Than Reed uploaded the second document, the surveillance tape of the mess hall. “Let's look at that unknown writing in the left corner,” Malcolm suggested.

MIRU quickly came with an answer. The language was Valakian. “Aren't the Valakians part of the Romulan Empire?” Amanda asked.

Malcolm nodded. “Look at the translation of the time and date,” he pointed at the screen.

Amanda blinked. Converted to Starfleet time, this footage had been taken a week ago. To make certain, Malcolm had MIRU run an additional analysis of the age of the surveillance tape. It had the same result. They were looking at images of Tucker from a week ago, three weeks after his so called death.  Finally, Reed initiated a facial and voice recognition on Tucker.  The message of the MIRU system was clear: “Identified. 100% recognition. Commander Charles Anthony Tucker the Third.”

They looked at each other. This was a major breakthrough. They studied the next file, containing an official document in a Orion language of more than 10 pages. MIRU acknowledged it was a genuine Orion document, written 23 days ago.

“I never thought those Orions were such administrators,” said Amanda, as she read the translated file with great interest. “It says that they discovered a cloaked Starfleet vessel and demanded all its properties for the Orion Syndicate. However, during the battle the warp core exploded, killing three of the Humans on board. They searched through the debris for useful material to be sold. One Human was saved and sold for three golden plates to the Valakians, who run a mining facility.” She skipped to the part were the specification of the sold Human was written down. “Blond hair, blue eyes, height seems about right.”

“Only this man is called Rokel,” Malcolm commented.

“I wouldn’t expect Tucker to give his real name when he got caught,” Amanda brought up. “ Perhaps he chose a name which has special meaning for him.”

“Rokel isn't a word I know and Trip didn't know many languages,” Reed remarked.

“What about Vulcan? We saw on the tape that he speaks Vulcan.”

Malcolm typed the word Rokel into MIRU, and the system provided the answer: Rokel – living hope, a Vulcan expression of hope for something that can't be explained by logic. Also used for the desire to have a child.

Amanda tapped on the name on the screen. “That's Trip. This is a long story and if you want to know more, ask T'Pol.  But I am pretty sure Tucker is using the name Rokel.”

Amanda felt excited. She loved this research work, unveiling a mystery piece by piece. “The Orion document mentioned that they searched through debris. The Arch-scan showed debris under the ground and the specification of the scan mentioned Orion weaponry radiation. I think there's a connection,” she suggested.

“We’ll have to look at it another time, because if I don't log out the system in seven minutes, I am in trouble,” Malcolm said. “I think we have enough evidence.”

“The agent has given you all the material to make a perfect case that Tucker is alive,” Amanda remarked. “You hit the jackpot.”

“She told me to tell this to captain Archer and I will do so first thing in the morning,” Reed told her, busy logging out the system. 

Amanda was surprised. “She wanted you to go to Archer? That's interesting. Do you have any idea who she is? I’d like to know what your source was. Don't you think it's all a little bit too perfect?” She remembered vividly how the supposedly reliable information of a what seemed to be a good informant had led to her team mates ending up dead in a valley, after the ambush.

“I’m glad I got the information, but if you're interested I took a picture during our transfer,” Malcolm said, “with the small camera in my sunglasses. I also taped our conversation during the exchange.”

“Can you run that data through MIRU?” she asked Malcolm.

“She's probably a top agent of Starfleet and untraceable to find by any system,” he said reluctantly. “And I am already out of the system and about to insert a deletion program to cover my tracks.”

“Can you give it one try?” she asked Reed and seeing his hesitation she added “One minute. I will not nag you again.”

Reed sighed, logged in again and uploaded the picture and voice recording for facial and voice recognition. Amanda got a glimpse of the agent's face. It was woman in her twenties. Her look was firm and confident. She had blond curly hair, blue eyes and she was dressed in purple shirt with a black jacket.

“She looks very young,” Amanda commented.

“But every inch a lady,” Malcolm almost smiled. “Hair, clothes, her voice. Listen.” He turned the speaker on and she heard a low and dark voice. It surprised her. It didn't sound like a very young woman, more like a woman in her forties or fifties.

Facial recognition came back negative. “I told you so,” Malcolm started, already moving his fingers to the keyboard to log off.  Then the system beeped and a list of documents popped up on the screen. They were all flagged. Reed clicked on one of them. “It looks like Hoshi Sato did a whole study after a voice that looked a lot like our agent. I can't image why she would do that...”

He scrolled down and his eyes widened.  Amanda saw the blood draining from his face. He looked pale as a sheet.

“You see a name you know?” Amanda asked.

He turned to her, his voice raw with emotion. “It's Ellen Tenson.”

Part six

Peace. Her dark surroundings were peaceful again. The sound of the beat played softly in the background. The presence was calm and focused. She heard a voice. It sang to her with sweet, gentle words. They were connected and she felt safe as she floated in her warm home.

Black. In her room, kneeling on a cushion, T'Pol looked at her stomach. Her hands went towards it, moving around in small circles. According to ancient Vulcan wisdom, massaging the stomach was a good thing for a child and mother-to-be. To' ovau, kah'ru, diftor, T'Pol thought, remembering the words of an old lullaby.  She had sung it for Elizabeth, her daughter with Trip. Her mouth felt dry and she couldn't bring herself to sing it again, but yet the words kept repeating in her mind. But even as the memory of the ones she lost filled her mind, she felt strangely at peace. No one would ever replace the children she lost, but she welcomed this new child of theirs.

And she would do everything to protect it and bring it into this world.  T'Pol let her hands fall next to her. She needed to be focused and logical. For the sake of the child, she should meditate. She lit a candle and stared into the flame. 

She hoped that she would end up in her white space again and that Trip would be there and she would be able to tell him about the child.

She had tried before to mediate, but after that first meeting it seemed she wasn't able to make a connection with Trip any more. This time T'Pol had no trouble focusing and soon she found herself in the familiar surroundings of her white space. There was no one there but, in a strange way, she didn't feel alone.

She meditated for a while, placing all her thoughts and deeds under the discipline of logic, but this time she did it with more joy than usual. She’d only experienced this odd feeling a couple of times in her life: this happiness without reserve.

After two hours, she felt refreshed, but she still hadn't been able to contact Trip. T'Pol started to withdraw from her white space, but then, when she least expected it, Trip stepped into her world.

He wore that same gray uniform as last time, the one he had been wearing in the surveillance footage she had seen today.

“Finally,” he said, “it works.” He put his arms around her and gave her a hug. “I missed you.”

“I am glad you came,” she whispered.

“I wanted to be here sooner, but I couldn't reach you,” he explained. “How are you?”

“It has been an eventful day,” she answered. “The last two days have changed my perceptive on things fully.” She swallowed. “As I told you the last time, I thought you were dead. I only knew what the captain had told me, that you had died in an accident. All of your friends have been told the same. I was at a memorial service and saw your coffin going into the ground.”

Trip pulled her tightly. “I left a message for you,” he murmured in her hair, close to her ear. “I was sent on a special secret mission. Didn't you get it?”

She released herself from his embrace and looked at him. “I never received a message and no one told me the truth. It was strange, you were declared dead and the bond was there, but dormant. I didn't know what to think of it.” She had thought she would never see his expressive face again and now she was looking right at him. She drank in his features as he stood there, his blond hair, his blue eyes, that lovely, strong face. T'Pol's hands reached out to him and she stroked his cheek with two fingers.  “It doesn't matter anymore. I am certain Captain Archer thought you were dead. I will convince him to assemble a rescue team, but he has to know your exact location.”

“Farel Moon,” Trip answered, wearing a frown on his face. T'Pol felt that he was still processing what she just told him. “It's a mining facility.  Romulans put their prisoners there, guarded by Valakians,” he told her. “I can't give you coordinates. I was traveling in the Dosa system, but after our ship was attacked and I was caught, I traveled from place to place, sometimes unconscious. Starfleet must have sent a search and rescue team after we went off the radar. Archer would know about that.”

She nodded. “I am sure they went to great lengths to retrieve you, but when they couldn't, they must have concluded that you were dead. I have been investigating the day of the accident and your so-called death with Lieutenant Reed. I am positive that, together with the captain, Reed will be able to find you and help you escape this Farel Moon.”

She felt an sudden unrest through the bond, coming from Trip. His eyes widened and his color turned pale. “T'Pol, why do I get the feeling you not going along with Mal and the captain? The last time we spoke you were desperate to find me and get me home. I know you would go through hell and back to rescue me,  but now it feels like you’re pulling back. Why?”

She looked him straight into his eyes. “There has been a change in my situation.”

Confusion, worry and fear rolled from him through the bond. “What change?” He looked at her intently. “What's going on, love?”

She tried to calm him. “This is good news, Trip. I am pregnant.”

Trip blinked. “You're what?” Unable to say anything more, he stopped and stared at her.

T'Pol didn't know what to say. By impulse, her hands found her way to her stomach again and her fingertips caressed the home of her child.  What happened next  – she didn't know if it was because Vulcan are touch telepaths or that it was simple the result of the bond she was forming with the child, or a combination of both – but suddenly the sound of baby's heart beat joined them in her white space , a joyful drum filled her white space, a happy rapid rhythm. It was as if she and Trip were surrounded by the sound of the child's heartbeat. “Meet our baby, Trip,” she said.

Understanding dawned in Trip's eyes. Joy, still mix with some unbelief, filled his face. “You're pregnant,” he repeated her former words.  He laughed out loud.

“Doctor Cutler wanted me to be hospitalized. She warned me that the baby needs care and must be transported to the artificial womb within the next week, otherwise my body may start to reject the child, as before,” she explained. However, she was afraid that Trip hadn't heard a word of what she had just said.

“We're having a baby,” he said, his eyes sparkled and his face bore a huge smile. “That's the best news I heard in a long time!”

Part seven

City of Melpuk, Torian province, planet of Velok, part of the Romulan Empire, four weeks after Trip arrives on Farel Moon

Black. Delon prepared himself. He put on the black mask his people wore when about to communicate through subspace communication devices.  This was done to prevent an enemy from seeing a Romulan face and knowing their true identity. But the man he was going to talk already knew this.

He made contact with the Headquarters on Farel Moon and within seconds the face of the Valakian Sub-commander Hinan appeared. Hinan was an old school military man, hardened by the many years he served in the Valakian army. Delon observed that as soon as he had identified himself, the Valakin’s already straight pose became more rigid and there was an edge to his voice when Hinan greeted him. “Greetings, Commander Delon, what gives me the honor of you contacting Farel Moon?”

Delon didn't return the greeting. After all,  Hinan was a good supervisor of the facility, but still a member of a inferior species that should be thankful they were a part of the Romulan Empire. He wasted no time, delivering his message to Hinan in clipped tones. “In one day we will collect the Human Rokel, the Vulcan V'Ran, the Heterian Mita, the Tellerite Gel and the Andorian Skrov and bring them to Hasanov. We will arrive in the morning. Make sure the workers are ready for transport.” The Sub-commander looked surprised. “Sir, Hasanov isn't a place for workers,” he replied.

“I am aware of that, Sub-commander,” Delon responded sharply. “It's a place for execution.”

“Apologies, Commander Delon, I didn’t mean to question your wisdom,” Hinan quickly said.

“Subjects should listen and obey the High Command, because their judgment is right,” Delon sneered. “Command has judged those four and deemed all of them guilty of high treason against the Empire. Rokel is a friend of the terrorist Archer, who sought to commit genocide by refusing a cure for your people. The Heterian may have Romulan roots and therefore legal rights, but she is a member of a subversive organization called the Kirakites.”

Delon saw the look of disgust on Hinan's face at the mention of Archer’s name and he wasn't surprised when Hinan answered calmly, “The four workers will be ready for transport, sir.”

“Good,” he said, “Commander Delon out.”

The screen turned black. Those four will be dead in a few days, he thought, feeling pleased. Or their transport would stir up things, making the Kirakites show themselves. Either way, it was a win-win situation and his sister wouldn't interfere with his plans. Felena was far away on Earth.

Delon smiled. He truly was a master strategist.

Translation of Vulcan words

To' ovau, kah'ru, diftor, literally: grow – learn – live