»Is this really true, T'Pol?« Cadet Mahoon wondered with surprise showing on her face. »You must have more than one friend. You have more friends here in the Academy.«
T'Pol realized that this was a delicate subject. She did not wish to offend the other Cadets, so she measured her words carefully. Humans used the word friendship with a different meaning than she did. Friendship implied a strong emotional attachment — and that was something Vulcans were not supposed to have at all. It was highly uncommon for a Vulcan to use this word. Humans, on the other hand, seemed to be quick at making friends. Humans were more social beings. When a Vulcan wished to relax, he sought quiet and solitude. Humans sought each other's company.
»You are right,« T'Pol said and looked at Cadet Mahoon. »I should use a different term to refer to Commander Tucker, I am just not sure what that term is.«
The other women giggled.
»Love interest?« Cadet Mohoon suggested helpfully.
»Boyfriend?« Denise offered.
»Future Husband?« Natasha Rostov fell in.
»Oh no.« T'Pol shook her head. »We are not that far.«
But then she hesitated. She wondered silently whether, maybe, they were.
»The problem is that there is no precedence,« T'Pol explained. »I simply do not the exact nature of our relationship. Commander Tucker is a Human and I am Vulcan. We've been brought up differently. We have also had very different experiences in life. Sometimes it is hard for us to communicate.«
T'Pol remembered, fondly, the many times she and Trip had argued.
»At the same time, these very differences are intriguing. Commander Tucker questions my beliefs whenever they appear to contradict his. Naturally, I do the same whenever I don't share his beliefs. Initially, it seemed that he and I could not agree on anything. We often argued, but over time we learned to understand each other. To my surprise, it turned out that we have a lot in common. Sometimes, we understand each other very well.«
The human women were silent for a moment while they imagined what it would feel like to engage on this kind of adventure with a colleague. With an alien colleague, no less.
»What does Captain Archer say about his two Senior Officers going out?« Stephanie asked, eventually.
T'Pol hesitated and looked to the ground. »He does not know.« she said without looking up.
»Right,« the other women said slowly, realizing how difficult T'Pol's situation was. They exchanged silent glances.
»I reckon,« Denise spoke up, »it would be good if it stayed that way. There shouldn't be any talk or rumors.«
»Yes,« T'Pol agreed and looked up again. »When the time is right, Captain Archer deserves to be told personally.«
»Right,« the other Cadets nodded, and for the remainder of the night said no more about the subject.
--
It was well past midnight when the gathering at the lake broke up. Technically, this was too late, but in fact having bent the rules a little had contributed to the pleasantness of the evening. Everyone had to go the same way home and they walked the short distance together, still engaged in lively chatter. There was no sense of urgency, so it wasn't until 1AM that T'Pol finally arrived in her quarters.
She entered the by now familiar room with a sense of relief and exhaustion. The last 24 hours had been eventful and she hadn't been entirely prepared for those events. Still, she was tired in a pleasant way. She felt like an explorer.
For the longest time, she had regarded the path laid out before her as a consequence of past mistakes. Arguably, this was true, but now T'Pol wondered whether it really was that simple. Her mistakes hadn't really been mistakes — they had been choices. She had chosen her path. Some of her choices had been naive and uninformed and impulsive, but others had been wise and fortunate. It was the sum of her choices that had led her here. Ever since T'Pol had joined ENTERPRISE, her path had lead her straight to this point: she was about to become a member of Starfleet. She was by all standards a member of Human society. On Earth, she had found the very thing her own people could not give her: a sense of home.
Out of the corner of her eye, T'Pol noticed the small LED on her comm device that signaled missed calls.
--
Trip lay in bed and wondered. T'Pol had made it clear that she needed space. It was hardly surprising that she felt this way. Still, their conversation hadn't played out like he'd hoped. On the one hand, it disappointed him that he hadn't managed to convey the significance of the subject weighing on his mind. He had come to tell her about his feelings, but it hadn't been possible. He would have liked to talk about his career plans, but that hadn't quite worked out either. Though it now seemed farfetched, he'd half expected they would make plans together, but … oh, well.
He could not help being impatient. It felt like he had waited a long time already.
On the other hand, Trip realized he had nothing to worry or be disappointed about. T'Pol just needed some space. She had to get a grip on her life before she got involved in his — and vice versa. It was only a couple of days until she got her commission. Then they would have this conversation again.
»Anyway …« he thought. He got up from the bed, and walked over to the living room to check the comm. The last time he had checked the comm was six minutes ago, and he was little surprised to find that no call had come in since then. If a call had come in, he most likely would have heard it.
Trip realized he was wasting time and he also realized that he could not continue to be in this state of mind for the next 26 days.
Following a sudden impulse, he returned to the bedroom and grabbed two bags from a corner. He put them on the bed, opened them, and began to pack his few belongings. In less than half an hour, he was all set and ready to go. He would sleep on COLUMBIA from now on. Nothing calmed him down like having a warp engine nearby.
On his way out, Trip checked the clock: it was half past midnight. With a little luck, he would still be able to get a shuttle at this time. He preferred to travel to COLUMBIA by shuttle. Using the transporter was quicker, but he loved to see COLUMBIA hover in space in her majestic beauty during the approach.
Trip stepped outside, locked the front door, and turned to go. He left without looking back.
--
T'Pol wondered whether she should call him back at this hour. It was quite likely that Trip was asleep. She didn't want to wake him up. On the other hand, Trip would often try to get by on very little sleep. So maybe he was awake just like she was?
She reached for the comm device and initiated the call. When the Starfleet insignia appeared on the screen, her stomach felt as if a swarm of butterflies had been set free. She waited breathlessly for what seemed like an eternity. But all that happened in the end was that the screen displayed "no response", and then switched off.
»Apparently, he is asleep,« she thought with just the tiniest little bit of disappointment.
--
The next morning.
--
Trip woke up feeling strangely invigorated despite having slept only a few hours. He got up without hesitation and walked over to the viewscreen to look at Earth from space. He had seen that image countless times, but it never ceased to boggle his mind. While you are on Earth, the planet seems vast and incomprehensibly big. Seen from space, however, that planet was just a tiny blue ball in a vast void. The sight always gave him a fresh perspective.
A part of him had resisted sleeping on COLUMBIA until now. It hadn't felt right. He hadn't thought of COLUMBIA as »his ship«. Last night he had learned that she was. The moment he had felt that engine, he had felt right at home.
Trip realized that he had teased Malcolm unfairly. Malcolm pretended to be considering the move to COLUMBIA although it was quite obvious that he had moved already. Now it occurred to Trip that he might be acting just the same way. He tended to regard ENTERPRISE as something sacred. He had worked and lived on that ship countless hours and loved her from the bottom of his heart. This ship and her crew had become one. To consider leaving ENTERPRISE felt like considering betrayal. This notion, however, was a little naive.
Malcolm would leave ENTERPRISE, … and who could blame him? He would become First Officer of the most advanced starship of the fleet. Not only would this transition benefit him, it would also greatly benefit the crew of COLUMBIA, who could consider themselves fortunate to have this man.
Trip had wondered about this subject recently, but now it baffled him how obvious the answer was. He realized that he would leave ENTERPRISE too.
It wasn't a question of yes or no, it was a question of when.
It felt as if the weight of a mountain had fallen off his shoulders.
--
T'Pol woke up feeling strangely invigorated. By Vulcan standards, she had slept a long time, but by Human standards she was up early. It had never occurred to her before, how convenient this was. On Vulcan, she would have had to be on duty less than 30 minutes after getting up, but here on Earth she had plenty of time before her first class. She had time for herself. For almost two and a half hours, she could do whatever she wanted!
Her daily routine was to sit down in the living room and mediate, but this particular morning, T'Pol felt like straying from her routine. She felt like doing something special.
T'Pol stood up from her bed and walked across the room to the window to look outside. The sun had just begun to rise and she noticed the sky was clear — not a single cloud could be seen. It looked like a beautiful morning.
T'Pol hesitated for a moment, but then she made up her mind.
Today, she decided, she wouldn't meditate in her living room. She would meditate outside, in the park.
--
Trip greeted his crew cheerfully while entering the Engine Room.
»Good morning, Ensigns.«
»Good morning, Commander,« they responded just as cheerfully.
»How are you this morning, Commander? We hope you haven't sustained any injuries during the night?« Ensign Benson enquired with mock concern.
»I feel great, actually. I'm in the mood for some real hard work today. How do you feel, Ensign?«
»Um … actually, I feel a littl—«
»Good, very good. Now, what kind of data do we monitor concerning those Vulcan injectors?«
»Um, I don't know. We have dozens of sensors in the injection stage. All of them monitor the injectors in one way or another.«
»Good, then we'll need to gather all that data from all those sensors and analyze it. I want to know about every glitch and every malfunction we've had in the last 96 hours.«
His crew grew pale.
»You are kidding?«
»No. Those injectors worry me. They work great most of the time, but sometimes they refuse to work and I have no clue why. We can't fly the ship with injectors dropping out on us.«
»What about the design specifications? Weren't we supposed to get them any day now?«
»We are supposed to, but it's been two weeks and we still don't have those plans. To be honest, I don't believe that we should rely on the Vulcans to help us out of this problem. This is our warp engine and our crew-mates rely on us to fly this ship at warp speed no matter whether we get those specifications or not. Right?«
The Ensigns were a little surprised by Commander Tucker's passionate response, but they knew he was right. The general perception had been that until those design specifications arrived, nothing could be done anyway, so they might as well enjoy the easy-going work pace. But if it turned out the Vulcans were simply unwilling to share those documents, the engineers could hardly use that as an excuse to cancel the maiden flight!
»The way I see it,« Trip suggested, »we'll make one more serious effort to find out what is wrong with the Vulcan injectors. We'll report our all our findings and all our sensor data to the Vulcans to make sure they realize these problems are for real, and not just some figment of our imagination. Anyhow, if those darn injectors don't get the job done by the end of the week, I say we pull them out and use our own. Ours may not be as fast, but at least they work.«
»Damn right they work!« Ensign Benson confirmed forcefully. The latest model of Starfleet's warp injectors drew on a design she had proposed in her doctoral thesis.
--
»Alright … that is all for today. Thank you for your attention, Cadets.«
For a moment, the students knocked on the tables to express their appreciation, and T'Pol gladly joined in. In her opinion, the lecture had been excellent. Their microbiology teacher had a gift for making lectures a social experience. Every now and then, he gave them problems to solve. For example, he would present a scan of a newly discovered exo-bio-organism and then challenge them to interpret the data and guess the functions of mysterious organells. T'Pol knew these problems were the subject of ongoing research. Basically, no one knew the answers. From a logical point of view, it was futile to pursue these problems ad hoc in a class room. However, this didn't seem to deter the Humans in the least. They just made up rather fanciful theories and debated them passionately. Several times, it almost seemed the students had worked out an important aspect of the problem, but ultimately the answer would elude them, as it had the experts. This was to be expected. Still, T'Pol had enjoyed her microbiology class.
Eventually, the group dissolved. Morning classes were over and everyone had two hours of spare time, which T'Pol would spend in the Cantina, like most other students. She looked forward to her lunch break.
On her way, she was approached by a young man. T'Pol remembered him from yesterday. He had been at the lake too.
»Hi, Steve,« she greeted him.
»Hi, T'Pol.«
He smiled, but then he looked down, apparently somewhat embarrassed.
»I am glad to see you, T'Pol. There is something I wanted to ask you about.«
T'Pol was surprised. »Of course. What would you like to know?«
»You see … I got my test results yesterday. Math. My favorite subject.«
T'Pol nodded.
»All things considered, the results are better than I expected, but there is something strange. Two of my answers were, apparently, completely wrong. I got zero points for both of them.«
»I see.« T'Pol said.
»I talked to my teacher, but I didn't understand much of what he said. To be honest, I still have no idea why those answers are wrong.«
»Do you have the those results with you?«
The young man looked up, clearly relieved.
»Yes.«
»I am on my way to the Cantina. If you'd like, I could take a look at your test.«
»Sure,« he smiled. »That would be great. Thank you, T'Pol.«
--
Trip rang the doorbell to Captain Hernandez' Ready Room.
»Come in.«
He stepped inside, carrying a small data disk.
»Hello, Commander. Welcome aboard.«
Trip was momentarily puzzled. »Excuse me?«
»I hear you've moved in.«
»Oh … yes, I did.« Trip was surprised. »How did you know?«
Captain Hernandez laughed.
»I know everything.«
»Ah-ha,« Trip grinned. He held up the disk for her to see. »Then maybe there is no point in me coming to you with this data.«
»By all means.« She laughed and gestured for a chair. »Please remind me.«
Captain Hernandez liked Commander Tucker. He was a gifted Engineer and a natural leader. For all she knew, every single crew-member down in Engineering hoped he would transfer here. Her ship badly needed a capable Chief Engineer.
Ironically, his very qualities made it unlikely that she could win him over for COLUMBIA. Rules of ethical conduct forbade her from making an offer anyway, but in truth there was little she could offer. On ENTERPRISE, Commander Tucker was Malcolm Reed's superior, but on this ship Lieutenant Reed would be First Officer. From Commander Tucker's perspective, transferring into this constellation would be a bad career move. Being third in command on ENTERPRISE was far more prestigious than being third in command on COLUMBIA.
Trip handed her the disk.
»We have analyzed 26 injector failures observed over the last three days,« Trip explained. »Most of the malfunctions are minor, but on at least three occasions a third of the injectors failed at the same time. A failure of this magnitude would collapse our warp bubble in flight.«
»I see.« Captain Hernandez took the disk and put it on her desk. She didn't bother to look at the data herself.
»The Vulcan injectors have a tendency to malfunction. We could fix that, but our chances would be better if we had those specifications.«
»I understand, Commander. I will call the Ambassador to share this.« She tapped on the disk.
Then she fell back in her chair and sighed, clearly frustrated.
»I have to be honest, though. Whenever I did manage to reach him, the Ambassador's explanations were, let us say, … vague. I don't know how much I can achieve.«
»I know that feeling.« Trip sighed. »When a Vulcan doesn't want to talk about something, there's no way to make it happen.«
»What are our chances of remedying the problem without those documents?«
»Ensign Benson has worked up a transition plan. We estimate that we could replace the Vulcan injectors by ours in two weeks.«
Captain Hernandez was surprised. »Ours worked,« she agreed.
»The ship won't reach warp 6 using Starfleet injectors, but I can promise that warp 5 will be like a walk in the park.«
»Commander,« Captain Hernandez said after a moment of silence, »there is something you have to know.« She leaned forward.
»The decision to use Vulcan injectors was made at the top-level. The Vulcans approached us and offered to cooperate. This was generally perceived as a gesture of goodwill. Starfleet very much wants to exchange technology with the Vulcans, and up till this they had always refused.«
Trip nodded.
»Everyone in Starfleet wanted those negotiations to succeed. We were eager to find ways to cooperate. Those injectors sounded like a good-enough start, and so it was decided …«
The political implications began to dawn on Trip.
»We cannot just replace them.«
»If we make that decision, it will embarrass the Vulcan High Command.«
They both said nothing for a while.
»We can fly with the Vulcan injectors,« Trip brought out through slightly clenched teeth. »We cannot go very fast. I'd guess warp 3.5 at most, but then we'd be safe. Of course, if those documents actually arrive, we could probably get those injectors to 100 percent fairly quickly.«
Captain Hernandez relaxed, leaned back in her chair, and considered the situation.
»I'll do my best to get the papers, Commander.«
--
»Steve, you cannot generalize from an n-dimensional field into one of infinitely many dimensions. You have to prove that the generalization is true in the specific case you are dealing with.«
»Alright, I understand that. But it is true in this particular case.«
»Yes, it is.«
»So my answer is correct?«
»Yes, it is.«
»Then why didn't I get any points?«
»The proof is inconclusive. It's based on an assumption that, in general, is wrong. You have given the right answer, but you didn't prove it. The chain of logical deductions is incomplete.«
T'Pol could see Ensign Rickman's disappointment.
»It feels unfair,« he mumbled.
»It is.« T'Pol agreed.
She had experienced these problems too when she was a child. Her math teacher would ask her a question, but when she told him the answer, he wasn't satisfied. »How do you know?« he had demanded. »It's obvious.« she had answered, but her teacher didn't appreciate this response. »I am not interested in the answer to this question,« he had chided her. »I know it already. My interest is in observing you apply logical rigor.«
T'Pol looked at Ensign Rickman sympathetically.
»Logic is not supposed to be fair,« she said softly. »It's only supposed to be logical.«
Her thoughts drifted away for a moment, caught up in memories long past. Eventually, she shook her head slightly.
»Don't take these test results too seriously, Steve. Abstract theory may disapprove of your methodology, but still, you did find the answer to the problem. That is what matters out there in the field.«
Ensign Rickman smiled with great relief. Subcommander T'Pol didn't appear to doubt his qualifications despite his mediocre test results. Math was not his favorite subject, but still he tried hard and gave it his best effort. His teacher didn't seem to appreciate this fact, but T'Pol did. She was right. Next time, he would pay more attention to his assumptions. His skills were good enough to pass the final exam, and once that was done with, he'd become a Starfleet Officer and find out what real life is like.
»Thank you, T'Pol,« he said, and held her gaze for a moment.
--
Ambassador Soval bowed his head slightly at the other end of the comm link.
»Thank you very much for this information, Captain Hernandez.«
The Vulcan raised his left eyebrow a tiny bit, apparently to convey the enthusiasm his voice distinctly lacked.
»This data will doubtlessly prove invaluable during the analysis of the situation. I'll see to it personally that it is relayed at the next possible opportunity. Please convey to your team my appreciation for having compiled this thorough report.«
»We appreciate your efforts, Ambassador, thank you.«
The Vulcan hesitated an instant, recognizing the sarcasm in her voice.
»If that would be all …«
»There is one more thing, Ambassador. My engineering team believes they could repair these glitches fairly easily if they had access to the design specifications of the injectors. Surely you remember our conversation about this topic?«
»Of course, Captain. I assure you, you have our full cooperation. The delay is entirely the result of the procedures we must operate by. These design specifications are tied to a number of other technologies, some of which are classified. Our legislation does not permit the release of the documents without prior risk assessment. This clearance, I assure you, is being actively pursued at this very moment. It is only a matter of time, before this mere bureaucratic obstacle is resolved.«
»Ambassador, given the fact that this clearance process has been ongoing for the last week, I trust it is rather close to being concluded. Many members of Starfleet would be enthusiastic to receive these documents, say, tomorrow?«
For the briefest moment, the Vulcan appeared to be amused.
»Unfortunately I can neither confirm nor deny any such estimate. This process must seem like an unnecessary formality to an outsider, but I assure you it was established for good reason and in everyone's best interest. A conclusion will be reached and will then be communicated to you as soon as possible. We appreciate your patience in this matter, Captain.«
--
The Engineering Team had worked long hours today and everyone was tired. They had gathered around a large view-screen to go through their findings one last time.
»And then …. here … there is the feedback loop.« Ensign Stettham froze the data stream and magnified the display to focus on the relevant part of the image.
Everyone could clearly see it. There was that feedback loop.
It happened every time an injector malfunctioned. The puzzling bit was that sometimes it happened briefly before a malfunction, sometimes it happened briefly after a malfunction, and sometimes it happened at the same time. The two events were obviously related, but no-one knew how.
They stared at the data in silence, but eventually Trip interrupted the brooding. He clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention.
»This is far more than we knew this morning, guys. We should be proud. Let's come back tomorrow, and then we'll crack this nut.«
--
T'Pol had been busy all through the day. After classes were over, she had spent more time with the other cadets. Together, they had studied and chatted and generally enjoyed themselves. Eventually, someone brought up the idea of organizing an impromptu picnic by the lake, and then they had spent the rest of their evening relaxing by the water.
On several occasions during this day, T'Pol had helped other students with their homework, or she had answered practical questions about life in space. She had enjoyed sharing her experience. She felt appreciated because the others sought her advice and cared for her opinion. She felt like she had become part of a group. She knew this feeling from ENTERPRISE, of course, but here it was different because her rank seemed to matter so little. Her relationship to the other Cadets was less formal. Everyone called her T'Pol.
All things considered, she was doing well. There was only one tiny little reason for regret, she thought. Trip hadn't been with her.
--
When he finally arrived in his quarters, it was almost midnight. Trip felt tired and began to prepare for bed without further ado. He was exhausted, yet despite the exhaustion there was also a sense of fulfillment. The Vulcan injectors had worried him for several days. Now, he was relieved because he had at last addressed the problem.
There was only one tiny little bit of regret, because T'Pol hadn't been with him today. She knew more about these injectors than any of them. She could have helped them explain this feedback loop.
--
T'Pol wondered whether she should call him. She felt an urge to tell him about her day. So many things had happened that she would like to share! Trip had helped her find her path; he deserved to know now that she was doing fine.
--
Trip wondered whether he should call her. He missed her and he needed her advice. He wanted to know how she was and how her day had been. And more than everything, he wanted to see her face and hear her voice.
--
T'Pol looked at the clock and realized that it was almost midnight. She hesitated to call him. For all she knew, she had probably disturbed him yesterday already. Besides, it was somewhat inappropriate to place repeated late-night phone calls to Commander Tucker.
T'Pol went over to the comm device, displayed the log, and checked whether maybe Trip had called her.
He had not.
She wondered why not. Maybe the matter he wished to discuss had been resolved in the meanwhile, so now there was no need to call?
T'Pol realized that, technically speaking, she hadn't encouraged him to maintain frequent contact while she was at the Academy. The Commander was probably trying to honor her wishes.
--
Trip fought a strange battle while staring at the comm screen. His heart said »Call!«, but his mind resisted. T'Pol needed space, and so did he. He understood that it was true.
T'Pol needed only 25 days — just a bit over three weeks. That wasn't much, compared to how long they had known each other. He had seen her almost every day for the last three years! So this was just a short break. Why was it that he seemed to miss her so much?
Maybe he had become a little fixated on T'Pol. Starfleet relied on him to get COLUMBIA's warp engine in shape for the maiden flight. That was a tough enough job to keep him fully occupied for three weeks. He quite simply had no time for romance. T'Pol fulfilled her duty to Starfleet with focus, but it appeared that he had become somewhat unfocused. Perhaps he had lost perspective.
For over a year, the Xindi had determined his thoughts, his life, and even his dreams. With the threat resolved, everything urgently important in his life had just disappeared. Suddenly, in place of the »mission«, there was just this void. Maybe he'd hoped T'Pol could fill this void?
He realized he couldn't expect T'Pol to provide the answers to his questions. He had to find his own answers and he had to do that by himself. He could finally see that they both needed space. He made this decision with his mind, not his heart.
Trip went to bed feeling relieved. Tomorrow, he and his team would find the cause of the feedback loop. He could feel it. And the thought made him smile.
--
T'Pol lay on her bed, drifting in pleasant thoughts that revolved around Trip.
After three years of serving together, she felt like she knew him very well. But of all his admirable character traits, there was one she had missed at first. Only now did she realize how patient he was.
She felt wonderfully warm inside.
TO BE CONTINUED