The Commissioning

DISCLAIMER: Paramount owns Star Trek names and related intellectual property.

RATING: G

GENRE: drama

SUMMARY: This story takes place between the season four episodes 'Home' and 'Borderlands', and chronicles the events around T'Pol's commissioning as a Starfleet officer. The prologue picks up immediately after Archer leaves the Xindi mission debriefing in 'Home' (the second debriefing; not the first, aborted one).

NOTES:

1) I could find little information regarding United Earth's government, but I did find references to 'Ministers', so I assumed a Parliamentary structure and postulated a Prime Minister. I further postulated the existence of a Space Minister as the civilian authority over Starfleet. (Defense Minister sounded too militaristic.)

2) The Vulcan Dictionary at http://www.starbase-10.de/vld/ was the source of all Vulcan words in this story.

PROLOGUE

Captain Archer followed Ambassador Soval from the conference room, still surprised-pleasantly so-by the handshake and supportive words from the Vulcan Ambassador.

This is a red-letter day, Archer reflected, The debriefing went well, much better than the one last week, and the number of Vulcans in my fan club just doubled.

He was hungry, having skipped breakfast, and was pondering whether to grab something at the Starfleet dining facility when he noticed Admiral Forrest waiting for him in the corridor.

"Nice work in there, Captain. You didn't pound on the table, throw heavy objects, or threaten anyone with bodily harm. I like that in a briefing."

Archer chuckled, "I decided my last performance couldn't be topped, so why bother?"

"Indeed." Forrest fell in beside him, "If you have a moment, I'd like to see you in my office. A matter regarding your crew."

"Yes, sir." So much for lunch. "Not another brawl, I hope."

"No, no, nothing like that. It's about your request to commission T'Pol."

Archer digested this information silently. Based on T'Pol's history and performance, the request should have been routine. The fact that Admiral Forrest wanted to see him about it did not bode well.

They entered the Admiral's office. Forrest waved Archer into a chair by his desk, then sat down with a sigh, "I endorsed your request and sent it up to headquarters. This just came back."

Forrest called up a document on his terminal and swiveled it into Archer's view.

Archer read through it twice and looked up at Forrest, "They're denying my request because she hasn't been to the Academy? They say she's not qualified? Not qualified? After three years as my First Officer, she has more experience than anyone in Starfleet. Combat experience. This is the most ludicrous--"

Forrest interrupted him, "Jonathan, that's what the memo says but it's not the real reason. The real reason is politics."

Archer blinked. Politics. As a line officer, he loathed politics.

Forrest continued, "Some members of United Earth Parliament learned of the request, and they're opposed to it. The Vulcan High Command heard about it, and they're opposed also. The Commandant's office is under a lot of pressure to prevent this."

"So the Commandant folded under that pressure?" Archer asked, with barely concealed contempt.

"The Starfleet Commandant serves at the pleasure of the Prime Minister. He does not have the luxury of ignoring politics."

Archer struggled to contain his mounting anger. "I can understand why the High Command doesn't want T'Pol commissioned, but I can't see why anyone in Parliament would object."

"For a couple of reasons. They feel that the limited number of line officer billets should go to humans. And they don't trust Vulcans. They question T'Pol's loyalty."

"They question her loyalty?" Archer was genuinely surprised, "Haven't they read the after-action reports? Viewed the logs? How could they possibly question her loyalty? Unless they're blithering idiots."

Forrest shrugged, "The terms are synonymous, aren't they? Politician and idiot?"

Archer smiled bitterly, but there was ice in his eyes. "So, what happens next? How are we going to fight this?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence before Admiral Forrest answered, "I've already fought it. There is nothing else I can do."

"I see," Archer said, his voice deceptively calm.

Forrest cleared his throat, avoiding Archer's eyes. "I, uh, I'm to tell you that you can have your pick of officers to replace her. Anyone in Starfleet."

"That won't be necessary," Archer hissed through clenched teeth. He reached up, removed the Captain's rank from the left shoulder of his uniform, and dropped it on the desk. "I'm resigning my commission."

Forrest stared sadly at the shining silver pips, but made no move to pick them up. "You would sacrifice your career for this?"

"T'Pol would sacrifice her life for me or my ship. She very nearly did, on numerous occasions. If you have to ask that question, you're not the officer I thought you were."

Forrest stared at the insignia for another long moment. Inexplicably, he began to laugh. "Ah hell, Jon, what are you getting me into this time?" Grinning fiercely, he removed his own rank pin and tossed it on the desk next to Archer's.

It was the last thing Archer had expected. "Admiral, you don't have to do this..."

"Jon, I read the after action reports. And the logs. And the narrative of your recommendation. T'Pol has clearly earned a Starfleet commission. If you're willing to do this for her, then I'm willing to do it for you. That's the kind of officer I am."

"I... I'm sorry I doubted you, sir."

"S'okay. Actually, you may have just hit on the best way to fight this travesty. Your resignation will certainly stir things up, at headquarters and in Parliament. You're a hero, the current darling of the media. They'll avoid any responsibility for your resignation like a breach in the containment field."

Forrest spun the terminal back toward his desk, and began tapping out a message. "I'll let headquarters know of our decision. I'll ask them to reconsider. I'll ask them to imagine the headlines if they don't: 'Hero of the Xindi campaign forced to resign'. One thing politicians and bureaucrats hate is being made to look as small and petty as they really are."

"Do you think this will actually work?" Archer asked, wondering if they were both engaged in wishful thinking.

"For the sake of both our careers, I certainly hope so."

ONE

T'Pol waited until the last of the maintenance workers had disembarked before slinging her bag over her shoulder and stepping through the docking port onto Enterprise. She had caught a ride with the incoming shift on the morning supply lighter, rather than wait for the afternoon transport. She headed for her quarters, still in civilian clothes. The refit was almost complete; she could detect few signs of the massive damage Enterprise had sustained in the Expanse.

She saw no members of the crew as she made her way to her quarters, nor had she expected to. There was still a week remaining of the four-week leave that the entire ship's complement had been authorized. Not being officially part of Starfleet, she had not needed orders to take leave. That would change today at 1400, when she was scheduled to take the Starfleet oath and receive her commission. If she took it.

I will take the oath, she told herself, firmly. That was my decision. It is the logical decision. There is nothing for me on Vulcan.

She unpacked her bag and put her clothes away, but the uneasy feeling remained. Returning to Enterprise should have felt like coming home. Instead, she felt uncentered, apprehensive. The same feeling she had as a young child on Vulcan when the fierce desert storms blackened the sky.

She had thought that the two weeks she had just spent meditating on Mount Seleya's secluded summit would be enough. She had reached a state of calm serenity; had believed she was healed and ready to return. The calm had held until she set foot on Enterprise and old memories resurfaced, then she found it was the calm of distraction, not of healing.

Three weeks ago, the future was bright. Trip agreed to visit Vulcan with me, was even eager to go. Once we were away from the ship, he changed. Or I changed. Or we both changed.

T'Pol donned the teal outfit that had been one of her unofficial uniforms since her resignation from the High Command. He was more relaxed, less hesitant. He didn't make a joke of everything I said. For the first time, I began to realize how deeply he cared for me.

She started for the door, then stopped, unable to bring herself to leave the room. In her mind, she could still see the anguish on Trip's face when he learned she would marry Koss. I hurt him badly that day. Yet at my wedding, my kal'i'farr, he was the rock that I leaned on. Without his presence, I would never have had the strength to go through with it. He was kind, and gentle, and caring...

T'Pol's knees went weak and she choked back a sob. She steadied herself with a hand on the bulkhead, frightened by the intensity of her feelings. She forced herself to take slow, measured breaths. How will I find the courage to face him again? Coming back to Enterprise was a mistake, but neither can I bear the thought of leaving.

Slowly, much too slowly, she regained her composure. If she were to remain on Enterprise, she would have to find a way to work with Trip. I must see him, talk to him. Now.

"Computer, locate Commander Tucker."

"Commander Tucker is in Auxiliary Power Room 2 on Deck D."

T'Pol headed for Deck D, determined to ignore the feeling in her stomach which humans would term 'butterflies'.

Trip was running a leakage test on a bank of power capacitors when T'Pol walked in. The frown on his face was enough to tell her that he wasn't satisfied with the results. He looked up at the sound of the door, and his frown turned into a smile.

"Hey, T'Pol."

"Hello, Commander." Trip winced when she addressed him by his rank instead of his name, and her heart sank. Once again I have hurt him. He thinks I am pushing him away, when I only want to allow him space.

"So, today is the big day, huh? Are you ready?"

"No, I am not."

That got Trip's full and immediate attention. For T'Pol to make such an admission, something had to be seriously wrong. He sat his instruments down and turned toward her, concern etching his face. "What is it, T'Pol? What's wrong?"

T'Pol felt like bolting from the room. She suppressed the impulse, and forced herself to look Trip in the eyes. "On the trip to Vulcan, our relationship changed. I sensed a closeness growing between us, an acceptance of each other. I enjoyed that time with you. I miss that closeness."

Trip was silent for a long time before he spoke, "Are you saying that you love me?"

T'Pol hesitated. Up until now, she had resisted naming the way she felt about Trip, as if a name would make it more real and thereby harder to control. That is illogical. The feeling is real, whether I name it or not. It is ashaya, what humans call love. "Yes, Trip, I believe I love you."

"Huh." Trip scratched his head in bemusement. "Hearing that two weeks ago would have made me a very happy man. But coming from a married woman, it's a little too late. I may be many things, but I'm not an adulterer. Koss can rest easy when you're around me."

"Koss does not care. He has no feelings for me, or I for him."

"Yes, I know you agreed to the marriage to help your mother. I respect that. It was a selfless act, and I'm proud of you." Trip sighed and put a hand on T'Pol's shoulder, "For the record, T'Pol, I love you, too. I've loved you for a long time, I just didn't realize it until you told me you were getting married. But as long as you're wedded to another man, you're off limits to me."

T'Pol took Trip's hand into her own, "I hurt you when I married Koss. That was not my desire. I am having... difficulty... forgiving myself for that."

"Sure, it hurt. It hurt a lot. But you did what you had to do, okay? Look, T'Pol, I've had two weeks to think this over, and I'm thinking it's for the best. We could never sustain this relationship." He gently disengaged his hand from hers. "We're just too different, you and I. The Vulcan lifespan is over two-hundred years. When I'm dead and gone, you'll have sixty or seventy years left. Then there are all those human emotions you'd have to put up with, day after day. I think it would make you crazy. I don't see any way to make this work."

T'Pol stood with her hands at her sides, unable to move or speak. I have truly lost him. After a long moment, she turned and walked silently from the room.

TWO

The door chimed and T'Pol looked up from her data pad. "Come in."

Captain Archer entered quarters, grinning broadly. "Good afternoon, T'Pol. Welcome back."

"Thank you, sir."

He nodded at the data pad. "Working? On the day of your commissioning?"

"I was going over the checklist for the refit modifications, and prioritizing the acceptance testing schedules. I have managed to move up our operational date by two days." And I have managed to avoid thinking of Trip for several hours.

"Very good, but we can finish that tomorrow. Today we have bigger fish to fry."

"Fish, Captain?"

"It's a figure of speech. It means we have something more important to do, like get you commissioned. Are you ready?"

"I am."

"Good. Off we go, then."

He exited the room, T'Pol walking beside him with her hands clasped behind her back.

"I understand congratulations are in order," Archer said, giving T'Pol a curious look. "I hear you're a married woman now."

"Did Commander Tucker tell you that?"

Archer nodded, "He did."

"Then he should also have told you it was not what I desired. I did it for the honor of my family."

"He just told me you were married, and if I wanted any details I'd have to ask you. It, uh, it sounds like you'd rather not talk about it right now."

"That is correct."

"Okay, case closed. Forget that I asked."

Have I hurt him as well? T'Pol stopped in her tracks. "Captain, I don't want to discuss this marriage, because it is something I wish to forget. Do not think it is because I don't trust you."

"I understand, T'Pol." He took her by the arm, and gently led her down the passageway, "Now, let's not keep the Admiral waiting."

When they paused before the airlock leading to the space dock, T'Pol turned to Archer. "Captain, I presumed I would be commissioned in your ready room. Why are we leaving the ship?"

"Admiral Forrest wanted to do it in the space dock facilities. He's an Admiral and I'm a Captain, so we're doing it in the space dock."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Trip was waiting for them on the other side of the lock. "Hey Captain, hey T'Pol."

Trip and Archer exchanged a quick glance, bland expressions plastered on their faces. T'Pol had been around humans long enough to recognize that look. In her experience, it was usually associated with something called a 'surprise birthday party', which had made her glad her own birth date was not part of her record.

They're planning something, T'Pol thought. A 'surprise'. I hope it doesn't involve the ritual humiliation humans seem to enjoy.

"Here we are," Trip said, stopping in front of a set of large, air-tight doors.

"Captain, this is the cargo bay," T'Pol pointed out, perplexed.

Archer grinned, "So it is." He pressed a button and the massive doors slid aside. "Right this way, T'Pol."

She followed him into the cargo bay, but froze just inside the door. The crew of the Enterprise stood in neat ranks before her. Off to one side was a contingent of officers from Starfleet Headquarters, led by Admiral Gardner and--she had to look twice--Ambassador Soval.

Captain Archer was beside her, smiling. "All hands are present," he murmured, "They cut their leaves short to be here."

He motioned toward the dais, "I'll administer the oath up there."

T'Pol remained rooted to her spot, and Archer turned back to her, "T'Pol? Is something wrong?"

She shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. They are here out of respect for me.

Then Trip's arms were around her, steadying her, and his voice was soft in her ear, "It's okay T'Pol, I've got your back."

She answered him, voice tense with suppressed feeling, "I fear I will lose control of my emotions. Disgrace myself..."

He gave her a reassuring squeeze, "Don't worry, you're among friends here. If you could get through your wedding in one piece, this should be a walk in the park."

She drew strength from Trip's presence, and the panic subsided. My rock, my anchor. "Stay with me," she asked him.

He nodded, and led her to the dais where Captain Archer stood waiting. They stepped up, facing the Captain, and Trip released his grip on her arm, but remained beside her.

Archer gave her a searching look. "Ready?" he asked, voice low.

"Yes." "Raise your right hand and repeat after me," Archer said, now his voice pitched to carry throughout the cargo bay.

T'Pol's right hand went up.

Archer started reading from a slip of paper in his hand, "I, state your name,"

"I, T'Pol," she repeated.

"Having received a commission as an officer in Starfleet," he continued.

"Having received a commission as an officer in Starfleet, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of United Earth against all enemies, foreign or domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I will well and faithfully carry out my assigned duties and responsibilities; that I will obey the orders of the Prime Minister, the Minister of Space, and the officers appointed over me, according to Starfleet regulations and the laws of United Earth; So help me God."

Archer's eyebrows went up as T'Pol recited the entire oath from memory. Halfway through, he pocketed the slip of paper, an amused look on his face.

"I memorized the oath," T'Pol explained, after she had finished.

"I can see that," Archer said. "We're almost done here, just hang on for another minute." He nodded toward the Starfleet contingent, and the Headquarters Adjutant stepped forward and started reading to the assembled company.

"Attention to Orders: The Prime Minister of United Earth has reposed special trust and confidence in the courage, fidelity and professional excellence of T'Pol. In view of these qualities, and her demonstrated potential for leadership, she is, therefore, appointed to the rank of Commander, such appointment to take effect immediately. By order of the Minister of Space."

While the appointment orders were being read, Captain Archer pinned a set of Commander's rank insignia on T'Pol's left shoulder. "This was my old set," he told her as he fumbled with the insignia, "I want you to have it. Maybe you can pass it on to your First Officer when you're a Captain."

He stood and waited for the Adjutant to finish reading, then shook her hand, beaming with pride. "Let me be the first to congratulate you, Commander." The cargo bay erupted into applause. From across the room, Ambassador Soval gave her a slight bow of approval.

She looked back at Captain Archer, who was applauding along with the others. "Captain, may I address the crew?" She asked. Her tone suggested she would not be disappointed if he said no.

He held a hand up and waited as the applause faded to a low murmur. "They're all yours, Commander."

She could sense Trip next to her, solid and reassuring, as she began to speak. "Thank you all for coming. I... I formally joined Starfleet today, but I have felt like part of Starfleet for a long time. Taking the oath was my way of honoring you. Instead, you... you..." Her voice trailed off, and she shot a despairing look at Trip.

He grasped her by the arm. "Steady, T'Pol," he whispered, and she felt his strength flowing into her.

She took another deep breath. "Instead, you honored me by being here today. I will never forget this. Never."

The cargo bay was silent. T'Pol saw Hoshi wiping her eyes as if there were something in them. In fact several crew members were wiping their eyes.

Captain Archer caught her eye and nodded, "Well said, Commander. Well said." He continued, "There's a party in your honor on Enterprise, in the launch bay. All hands are invited. I trust you'll be there?"

She nodded, "Yes, Captain."

Trip interjected, "We'll be there, sir, but we might be a little late. T'Pol and I gotta talk."

THREE

"What the hell just happened back there?" Trip asked T'Pol as they made their way back to Enterprise.

"What did you feel?" T'Pol asked in return.

"It was weird," Trip said, "I felt like I was connected to you somehow. Like I could feel you even when we weren't touching. I don't know how to describe it. Do you know what's going on?"

"Yes. Come to my quarters and I'll explain."

They were silent the rest of the way, Trip chewing anxiously on his lower lip, and casting sidelong glances at T'Pol. Once they arrived, they sat facing each other on the bed.

"Well?" Trip blurted, unable to restrain himself any longer.

T'Pol took Trip's hands into her own. "It is what Vulcans call the tel-tor. The co-joining of minds. A telepathic bond between two people."

"I see. And just when did you do this tel-tor to me?"

"I did not 'do' it to you. This type of bond can not be induced in someone against their will. It forms naturally, and only occurs between two people who share deep affection and respect. In Vulcans, it often occurs between a husband and wife, although it can take years or decades for the bond to form."

"Wait just a second...Number one; I'm not a telepath. Number two; we're not husband and wife."

"You obviously had some latent, if unsuspected, telepathic abilities, "T'Pol explained, patiently. "As for number two, the bond does not require a marriage contract, only love and physical intimacy. The surprising thing is how quickly our bond formed."

"No, this can't right! You're married to Koss." He tried to pull his hands away, but T'Pol tightened her grip.

"Trip, listen to me! The kal'i'farr is not like a human wedding. I did not promise to love him, I did not promise I would spend my life with him, and I did not promise him fidelity. Nor did he promise these things to me. In the past it was different, but today the kal'i'farr is a civil contract. It means he owns half my property, nothing more. Koss and I have not been intimate. After you returned to Earth, I went to meditate on Mount Seleya. I have not seen or spoken to Koss since the day of the ceremony."

"You mean, you haven't consummated the marriage?"

"I have not and will not."

Trip chuckled. "You wouldn't believe the things I thought. In my imagination, the two of you were rutting like rabbits."

T'Pol fixed him with a level gaze. "Knowing you, I believe it all too well."

"Okay, so you say we have this bond, this tel-whatsit."

"Tel-tor," T'Pol corrected.

"Right, tel-tor. How do I know it's real?"

"Did you not feel it?"

Trip shrugged. "I felt something, but it didn't exactly overwhelm me. When, exactly, did this Tel-tor happen?”

"I believe the bond was forged at my kal'i'farr.”

"Wait, you think this bond happened because of your wedding with Koss? Trip's disbelief was palpable. "How can that be?"

T'Pol almost sighed. "You persist in thinking of the kal'i'farr as equivalent to human marriage. It is not. That day, during the ceremony, what were you thinking?"

Trip cocked his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he pondered his answer. "Let's see... I was thinking how beautiful you were. I was thinking how much I wished to be the one going through the ceremony with you, instead of Koss. I was thinking how he did not deserve someone as amazing as you, and how I'd like to rearrange the features on his smug, Vulcan face. But mostly I was thinking how much I was going to miss you."

"Those were powerful thoughts. It helps explain the strength of our bond. At the kal'i'farr, I knelt before Koss, but my thoughts were only of you. Of your kindness and consideration. I, too, wished you to be in Koss's place. It was a difficult day for me and I needed your strength to see me through it. I think my need was what precipitated our bond. As I learned this afternoon, our bond is exceptionally strong."

"Is it?" Trip asked. "Like I said, I wasn't exactly overwhelmed."

"See for yourself." T'Pol released Trip's hands, placing them in his lap. "Close your eyes and try to touch me."

Trip started to reach for her, but she gently pushed his hands back into his lap. "Without your hands."

Trip closed his eyes, visualizing her features, and imagined he was touching her lightly on the cheek. An electric thrill ran through him as he felt the sensation of smooth skin beneath his fingers. His eyes jerked open, and he stared at his hands, verifying that they were still resting on his lap.

T'Pol was sitting with her eyes closed, hands in her lap. "Try it again."

Heart pounding, Trip closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind a second time. He felt her smooth skin again, then a warm feeling of satisfaction and pride at having such an apt student. Student? He realized with a start that the pride he felt was coming from T'Pol. Gasping with wonder, he reached further. He saw... himself, through T'Pol's eyes. There he was, casting surreptitious glances at her during movie night on Enterprise, and he felt her amusement that he was more interested in her reaction to the movie than the movie itself. There was the night they first made love, and his suspicion was confirmed that it was more than an 'experiment' in human sexuality. And there-- there was something different, something darker. Troubled, he reached for it...

T'Pol stiffened. He had found the well of painful memories that haunted their relationship: her petty jealousies, her wounded pride, her thoughtless comments that cut him like a knife, all of her shameful thoughts and deeds would be revealed to him.

If he rejects me, I will die, she thought. He touched the darkness and she caught her breath, but made no attempt to resist him. He took the memories into himself, examined them. And he laughed.

"Is that all?" he said, between chuckles, "That was what was keeping us from each other all these years?"

His laughter was like a bright glow in her mind, and the darkness vanished. She felt acceptance. Forgiveness. Unconditional love. Tears spilled from her eyes onto her hands, but she was unashamed.

She opened her eyes. Trip was looking at her, wonder on his face, love in his eyes.

"We are k'hat'n'dlawa," she whispered, awestruck, "half of each other's heart and soul." It was the strongest of all bonds, and rare among Vulcans; maybe even non-existent since the Reformation.

"If you say so," Trip said, and he reached for her again, this time with his arms.

They were late to her commissioning party.

END