Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental multi-fandom project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 26 April.

Disclaimer: Star Trek Enterprise and all associated characters and situations are the property of CBS studios, and are used by myself for entertainment purposes without permission or intent to profit.

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"From The Top"
'Soft Reset'
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'

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"Only cheaters prosper." - Maxim Thirty-One, 'The Seventy Maxims of Maximally Effective Mercenaries, "Schlock Mercenary".

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Commander Charles Tucker III, United Earth Starfleet, had expected a bright light, maybe angels singing - but he could also make a good arguement for wailing and gnashing of teeth. What he'd never expected was to wake up in his own bed, in his own apartment... Sometime before the launch of Enterprise. He knew it wasn't a dream, because if he was dreaming he'd be dreaming of T'Pol. It was real. It had to be, because Natalie was laying next to him and that had ended six months into the first mission. If it was real, he was alive. If he was alive, he was in the past. If he was in the past...

There are two simultanous schools of thought involving finding the solution for a problem; one refers to Archimedes' discovery of water displacement and involves running wet and naked through town shouting 'Eureka'; the other is somewhat more subtle and involves a twentieth century scientist and philosopher's observation that most discoveries consist of finding things that persist despite the fact that all evidence says they should not and are usually marked by the statement of something being 'weird' or 'funny'. Trip had neither reaction as his brain caught up with and overtook the facts of the situation, but he did have to suppress the urge to let out an old-fashioned 'Rebel Yell' like his great-grandfather had taught him to make while growing up.

'If I'm in the past, I can change things,' Trip thought, looking up to his ceiling, 'I can't do it alone, though, that's for sure. I need someone I can trust, someone I can convince to trust me, and probably most importantly, someone with enough umph to help me from keeping things turning out like they did.'

'Jon's out, Human-Vulcan relations is too sore a subject with him; and while Mal might believe me, he doesn't know me yet and I don't trust Harris,' Trip rattled off in his mind, 'Phlox, Hoshi and even T'Pol are out too...'

Suddenly, a pair of names came to the engineer and he began to consider them, 'Definitely good at keeping a secret for a long time, I know some things I shouldn't which should help me prove myself to them... and they've got plenty of umph between them. I think I've got my allies... I just hope I don't get that 'turtle soup' comment thrown back in my face...'

Trip carefully moved the cover off and slid around so that he could get out of bed, causing the woman on the other side of the bed to stir.

"Mm... Trip?"

Trip turned his head and looked at her, "Sorry, Natalie, I've got to head in. I just figured out how to fix a big problem we're facing."

It wasn't technically a lie, the Xindi and Romulan wars were problems, so were the Augments - human and Klingon, the suborned Vulcan High Command and everything else Enterprise had encountered over ten years; and he had figured out how to, well, maybe not 'fix' them, but at least make some of them easier to deal with.

"Mm... 'kay... be back soon?"

"Probably not," Trip admitted as he began pulling clothes on, "It's liable to be an all-day thing, maybe longer."

"Mm... too bad..."

"Yeah," he answered half-heartedly, "Too bad."

'I'm gonna have to end this and soon,' Trip thought to himself, 'My heart and mind's just not in it now, no matter what some other body parts think of it. Well, at least I won't be getting 'Dear John'd' again...'

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United Earth Starfleet Command
San Francisco, United States of America,
North American Continent.

Despite the hour, Admiral Maxwell Forrest, Chief of Starfleet Operations, was still in his office hard at work. The launch of Earth's first NX-class Warp Five ship was less than a year away, despite the intrusions of the Vulcan High Command into the NX-Project, and the ship was still unfinished and uncrewed. The launch was less than a year away and the ship's captain was still unchosen; the Vulcans favored Gardner who was by-the-book and methodical much like they were, there was one faction in Starfleet that thought command of the NX ship should go to Duvall since he was the one to break the Warp Three barrier, others - Forrest himself included - countered that Robinson or Archer should be made Captain since Duvall would never have broke Warp Three if they hadn't proven the problem to be the intermix formula rather than the warp engine, some even proposed finding another officer entirely to take the position as a 'compromise' candidate - though most of them, ironically enough, couldn't agree on who that candidate should be.

Forrest groaned and put his elbows on his desk and his face in both hands, "I know Doctor Cochrane used to say that the future would be a darker place without First Contact, but sometimes I really wonder if it would've been that bad..."

A quick short tone and a longer one sounded from the intercom panel built into Forrest's desk, forcing him back to reality from his thoughts to press the button, "Forrest here."

"Admiral," the voice of the Ensign serving as his Yeoman in the outer office came over the intercom, "Commander Tucker wishes to speak with you. I informed him you had said no interruptions, but he claims it's urgent."

"Ensign, no interruptions means no interruptions," Forrest replied sharply, "No matter how urgent it is, if the planet's not under attack, it's not urgent enough to interrupt me right now."

"Figured you might say that, Adm'al," Tucker's voice cut in, "But also figured you probably wouldn't want Ensign Bond here knowing things about the NX above her pay-grade and all."

'Another problem,' Forrest mentally sighed, "Get in here, Commander."

Forrest released the intercom button, schooled his face into a standard 'Admiral awaiting report from subordinate' expression and waited. He only had to wait long enough for Tucker to enter the office and the door to shut behind him.

The Admiral frowned when Tucker didn't come to attention or salute, "Have you forgotten something, Commander?"

"No, sir," Tucker switched from his casual 'country-boy' tone that he used to keep people underestimating him to a more formal mode of speech, "I just didn't think rank and protocol were involved in an off-the-record discussion."

Forrest's eyes narrowed, "What makes you think this is an 'off-the-record' meeting, Tucker? I don't normally meet with officers in the dead of night at Starfleet Command, especially not without keeping records and definitely not when I'm not the one calling the meeting."

"Which means you sometimes do meet with officers in the dead of night here at Command," Tucker picked apart what the Admiral had just said, "It's just not normal procedure."

"Give me one damn good reason I shouldn't boot you right out that door and onto some warp-one patrol cutter, Tucker," Forrest growled.

"Because you 'especially' don't want records of a meeting where someone brings up a conspiracy to get Starfleet out from under Vulcan 'oversight', because those records might get out to the Admiralty, Earth-Gov and the Vulcan High Command and put you and the other conspirators in deep," Tucker gave his reason.

Forrest sighed, ever since he and Soval had begun working to work around the current relationship between Earth and Vulcan, this had been one of his greatest concerns; someone finding out and blackmailing them, "And what do you want out of this, then?"

"I agree with you and the Ambassador; Vulcan needs an ally, not a puppet and Earth needs a guide, not a leash. What do I want?" Tucker laid it out for Forrest, "I want in."