—Chapter 1—

T'Pol was troubled. Just ten days past, the Enterprise had returned Klaang to the Klingon High Council and shortly afterwards she had accepted Captain Archer's request she stay aboard the Enterprise as his second in command. Now she had to deal with Commander Tucker, for the man's lack of respect of the chain of command where she was concerned was something she could not tolerate, if she were to succeed at this endeavor. The memory of it all, still stung.

"Turn this ship around, now!" - The human's eyes had been a cold fury, barely contained.

"Our mission is to return the Klingon to his homeworld. Another rescue attempt could jeopardize that mission." - Her words were the essence of logic. Why couldn't this infuriating human understand that fact?

"The Captain specifically told us to come back for him." - He wasn't going to let this go.

"As Commanding Officer, it's my job to interpret the Captain's orders." - A last stab at logic.

"I just told you his orders! What's there to interpret?" - He refused to back down.

Glancing around the Bridge, T'Pol saw that the crew looked at each other uneasily. If Commander Tucker chose to usurp her authority now, she strongly suspected they would obey his orders, not her's.

"Captain Archer may very well have told you to return for him later because he knew how stubborn you can be."

As maddening and emotional as the Commander was, he was still the most interesting human on board this primitive ship, and the fact that she found him so troubled T'Pol, for it hinted at flaws in her own character.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

The Commander's eyes looked into T'Pol in a most insolent manner. Neither her species nor her rank impressed him and that rankled T'Pol, for she wished to prove her worth to the Commander.

"You might have risked Klaang's life in a foolish attempt to swing back and rescue the Captain."

He had done it. He had upset her balance, for T'Pol could feel her anger beginning to show in her face, and in her voice.

"I can't believe this!"

That much was true. She had sensed his outrage at what he perceived to be treason against this ship, and its captain.

"The situation must be analyzed logically." - Listen and understand, Commander, she thought. Obey!

"I don't remember the Captain analyzing anything when he went back for you on that roof."

The human brought his face closer to hers, perhaps in an attempt to intimidate her. If so, it was insulting.

"That is a specious analogy."

T'Pol had risen from the command chair, bringing her face closer to his, six point two inches from the Commander's face. Estimated.

I am not afraid of you human, she thought. You do not even intimidate me. But your insubordination is making me angry. You should beware of that, human, and be glad that my culture instills in me the discipline to resist the full flowering of that anger.

What troubles me most though, is that I relish this chance to draw close to you even in your anger, as I did earlier in the DECON chambers when my hands ran over your body, and yours over mine, and more disturbing still, I'm not properly ashamed of my desires, or my lack of control where you are concerned.

The hiss of the Bridge door sliding aside to admit Ensign Hoshi, brought T'Pol out of her reverie, and thankfully drew her away from some of the more troubling implications of that exchange.

It was early in the nightwatch as T'Pol moved through the halls on her way to the Mess Hall. She knew the Commander would be there at this hour. The man had a sweet tooth and usually found his way here almost every night around midnight, and sure enough, he was here, and he was alone. Perfect.

Trip looked up from the little project he had going, to greet the SubCommander.

"Evening, T'Pol."

She came to stand before the Commander.

"I'm building a birdhouse for Crewman Evers," said Trip, a six inch wooden dowel in one hand, paint brush in the other. "Wanna help?"

"I do not, Commander. I am here because you and I have a problem."

"Which is what?" said Trip, looking up at T'Pol.

"You behavior on the Bridge recently, bordered on insubordination, Commander. You will promise me that it will not happen again. You will do so here. You will do so now."

"Look, I thought you were just going to leave the Cap—"

"I do not want to listen to you rationalize your behavior, Commander. I am a Vulcan so I am trying to reason with you, but if all you understand is force, I could muster some up for you, not out of anger, for Vulcans do not feel anger, but as a device to illuminate the gravity of my words."

"Now that's something I'd like to see, SubComm—"

T'Pol lunged forward and grabbed the Commander by the front of his uniform, lifting him to his feet one handed, as the Commander's own hands moved towards hers.

Do it, thought T'Pol. Try your strength against mine, human, and find it lacking when facing a Vulcan.

An instant later she grunted, in pain and surprise. The Commander had used the small rod in his hands against the dorsal side of her hand, near the carpal bones, to break her hold on him at the wrist, then manipulated the rod so that the tip of it pressed hard into the back of her hand quite painfully, digging into bone and nerve, as his other hand bent her fingers backwards while maintaining an unpleasant pressure upon them, forcing T'Pol to her knees.

She could not rise, attack, or even move, though she knew that Commander Tucker could easily break all four fingers in her right hand before backhanding the other end of the wooden dowel into the side of her head, with unpleasant consequences for her well being.

The door hissed open and Crewman Kovac entered the Mess Hall. He froze at the unexpected sight.

"Fuck off, Kovac," said Trip.

Crewman Kovac looked at Trip, then T'Pol, then back at Trip.

"Are you deaf, crewman?" said T'Pol, irritation apparent in her voice at the thought of witnesses to her humiliation. "Get out."

"Y-Yes, sir."

"See," said T'Pol, "that is how a proper subordinate obeys a superior officer."

Trip looked down at T'Pol for a moment, then said, "Would you like to talk about this?"

T'Pol looked up at Tucker and logic dictated her response.

"Yes, I would like to talk."

The Commander narrowed his eyes, as if trying to fathom out if her words were genuine, or simply an attempt to escape her predicament.

"Don't try to be clever, T'Pol. It's not your day."

"You have my word, Commander," said T'Pol, and when released, climbed to the chair across from Trip's, rubbing her hand.

"Green tea?" said Trip, as he made his way to the beverage dispenser.

"Mint, please."

"One mint tea, hot," said Trip to the robotic dispenser. "One tall Ceylon black tea, iced, add coconut milk, sugar and one tablespoon of vanilla bean extract. Large scoop of matcha ice cream."

He returned to the table a moment later, set down their drinks and his ice cream, and sat, facing T'Pol.

"So, what's all this about, T'Pol?"

Commander Tucker rarely used her rank to address her, seemingly preferring to use her name, though there seemed to be no malice in the Commander's omission.

T'Pol took a sip of tea, then said, "Your conduct towards me on the Bridge during our recent encounter with the Suliban was unacceptable. I can not effectively command this ship in a crisis, if I must get my subordinate's approval before I can act."

"You know why I did it."

"Why you did it is irrelevant. You and I must reach an agreement or I must leave the Enterprise."

Trip sighed. He understood T'Pol's position. He looked at the Vulcan silently.

"You should have placed some trust in me, Commander Tucker."

"We don't know each other very well, T'Pol, so trust is in short supply, both ways."

"That is true, Commander. And the result of that is frustration and annoyance, at least on my part."

"Frustration and annoyance," said Trip, with a slight smile. "Those are emotions, T'Pol."

"Yes. It seems you have the rare gift of irritating me, Commander."

Trip smiled, and said, "It is quite a distinction."

"Quite," said T'Pol dryly, then eyed the little dowel next to the Commander's tea. "I was over confident to a fault, Commander, but your defense was effective."

"I was just lucky, T'Pol."

"No, that was not luck. You have surprised me more than once, Commander."

"That's because I'm a devious bastard," said Trip, "while you are logical, straightforward and sweet, T'Pol."

"Sweet…," said T'Pol, and there was no telling how she felt at being labeled so by the Commander.

Trip's smile was too bold to please T'Pol, and considering that he was once again within arms length, she was tempted to act, if only to reedem herself. But if the Commander managed to overcome her once more and she was humiliated twice in one day… The thought of that was too much to bear.

The next day, Trip walked into the Mess Hall at lunch time, to find T'Pol eating alone as usual. The crew was not quite accustomed to a Vulcan on board, and as it was unknown how long she'd be on board they were not certain if she was a crewmember or just a visitor.

The chatter in the Mess Hall fell off noticeably. Everyone had heard Kovac's story of T'Pol forcibly knelt before the Commander, and the crew was split between believing Kovac's tale of a physical confrontation, or an alternate explanation which maintained that T'Pol was actually pledging her undying devotion to the Commander. Of the two, the smart money was on confrontation.

T'Pol looked up as Trip walked up to her table.

"Commander," she said with a familiar nod. "Would you like to join me?"

"First," said Trip in his command voice, which filled the Mess Hall, though it was not overly loud, "I hope you'll accept my apology, SubCommander. You're an asset to this ship and an excellent officer. I apologize for my insubordination on the Bridge."

T'Pol felt every eye on her and was not surprised. Her sharp hearing had caught wind of the fact that much of the chatter so far had concerned her, the Commander, and last night's curious happenings.

"I accept your apology, Commander."

"Thank you," said Trip, sitting across from T'Pol, as the crewmen in the mess went about their business. "But this dog and pony show was just for the crew. I've made my apologies in a more practical manner."

"How?"

"I've augmented the heating and gravity systems in your cabin. You can now crank them both up to Vulcan standards now, for your comfort, and lower them back to Earth standard if you ever decide to throw a party for the crew in your quarters."

T'Pol was pleased at the thought of those comforts and even more so that Commander Tucker had been considerate enough to take care of her so appropriately.

"That was kind of you, Commander. Thank you. Now if you will get some food and join me, I would like to run some figures past you. I believe I have found a way to optimize the engines and gain a two percent improvement over our current standards at best speed."