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Star Trek and all characters, creations, organization, and locations pertaining there-to are the exclusive property of Viacom, CBS, and Paramount. Use of said characters, creations, organizations, and locations fall under the aegis of the Fair Use Clause and are neither intended nor unintentional generating profit or revenue for the Author.

Author Disclaimer

Typically I would have opted for a M (Mature) rating for this story, but given that it is perhaps more tame in all regards save sexuality than my other work I have decided to experiement with a T (Teen) rating. The story contains contextual and thematic elements that may not be suitable to all audiences. This book is set in a science fiction universe but covers matters of human interactions and relationships that may not be acceptable to all readers. Language and graphic descriptions of violence are common and if this type of writing disturbs you or is unsuitable for viewing by you or your child(ren)/spouse(s)/dependent(s), please do not open this work. This work is replete with refrences and allusions to romantic relationship and human sexuality as part of the natural process of human socialization and may contain strong sexual content and descriptions there-of. Refrences to suicide, drug use, alcoholism, religion, and politics are also contained here-in. If any of these subject matters are offensive or inappropriate to either yourself or your child(ren)/spouse(s)/dependent(s) please do not view my work as I will not be held responsible for posting material you may view as inappropriate after you elected to open and read it. If for any reason you find the material in this story beyond what should be allowable to a T rated story, please contact me and I will revert the rating to the original M.

Setting Disclaimer

Events in this story occur in a mirror universe where the Eugenics war took a decidely different turn, lasting into the 2020s and the Third World war never occured. First contact with the Vulcans also occured before the original canonical date.

Viewing Disclaimer

This is the last one...I promise. This work is best viewed at 1/2 justification. You know, those goofy little links at the top right corner of the page opposite the genre/title link bar. Seriously...I mean it, this definetly reads better at 1/2, but don't let me force you.

Fingers curled into the fabric of a sleeve, an act her antediluvian foremothers had done since before the time of logic and reason, when Vulcan slew Vulcan and they made war with a savagery that made the conflicts of human-kind, which her kind so adamantly decried, seem tame and civil. It was to the logic tempered Surak-ian mind a cry, a desperate scream, no less shocking to a Vulcan than it would have been for her to scream his name, in front of everyone and anyone on the ship, would be to a human.

She didn't look up, instead feeling the eyes of her human mate fall on her. He towered over her, seeming even more impossibly big now that usual, something about being under the gaze was comforting, it felt like a deep cave to find refuge in against a sand fire storm. She felt the bunched muscle underneath, felt it tense as he pulled his arm away, teasingly. The grey fabric slipped her fingers, despite the strength of her grip, she couldn't match these recombined humans. She darted her eyes upward, noting the pleased, or rather, bemused smile on his face. Humans had not suffered the numbing effects of rigid suppression of emotions, as a result their faces were still remarkably emotive, capable of a vast range of voluntary and involuntary expressions. It added an another layer of communication to their spoken language. Based on her observations, in some situations language barriers between humans could be overcome by the utilization of facial expressions and other bodily gestures. Interestingly, the complex stratification within human emotive response ran far deeper than the simple muscular alignment of features, to borrow their phrase the eyes could "tell the story." The subtle clues of eye position, pupil dilation, and angle of focus could change the nature and meaning of a facial expression diametrically. The fact that many humans seemed to be capable of extrapolating these clues without the benefit of pheromone cues or extensive training was still something of a marvel to her. His eyes were saying something entirely different, she couldn't quite discern the meaning, but she felt her blood quicken as a result.

Humans had somehow managed to take the lessons of their so-called Eugenics war into logical account and rather than allowing the events to almost destroy their race, they chose to allow it to improve them. During the brutal fighting, seeking to offset the advantages the flawed augments who started the war in the early days of their 21st century, an alliance of Earth governments began genetically modifying military volunteers with advanced genetic retro-viruses. The end result were what effectively amounted to super-soldiers without the ingrained moral relativism and superiority complex that affected the first augments. These Genetically Recombined Augmentees, as they were called, would help crush and then overthrow the augments. Initial fears had almost led to the destruction of the GRAs until it was discovered that their genetic alternation had not resulted in a psychological change. There had been no conquest, no enslavement, no purging of the inferior or genocide, the GRAs simply returned to their lives as soldiers or as some had to civilian life, retired, had families, and, eventually, died. Later the method was used to adjust certain issues that had plagued humanity and created a more solid, hearty, and physically exceptional species. Tempered by questions of ethics the ruling parties of Earth introduced new changes gradually, sneaking the retro-viruses into the air and water supply, seeking to eliminate defects from the genome. However there were additional concerns, when population growth spiked at 3.4% in 2056 it became necessary for measures to be taken to ensure overpopulation didn't become an issue. Mandatory "screenings" became the norm wherein individuals would have their sexual organs mildly irradiated to retard the chance of conception. This had, of course, produced outrage and another alternative had to be developed, humans had to begin a Diaspora from Earth, into space.

Her mate was an 8th generation system 5 Genetically Recombined Augmentee, a human whose genome had been carefully sculpted over generations of treatment and further developed upon at the time of his commission. His father had been a 7th generation system 5, and combined with the widespread modifications among civilian populaces in North America, he had been born with Augmentee level genetics, the additional modifications upon beginning his commission had just served to further boost his physiological solidity. At 1.9 meters he seemed to dwarf her, and she had discovered later on that his physical strength was easily a match for her own despite her race's physical superiority to base-line semi-augmented humans. His build lent itself more to that of a MCS Marine than an engineer, a fact he often flippantly dismissed by claiming engineers needed an abundance of strength and stamina in the course of their occupation. As chief engineer on the first earth Warp 7.5 cruiser, he was an integral part of the absolute vanguard of Military Command Starfleet's armed forces.

"Can I help ya with somethin', Sub-commander."

She found his vocal patterns pleasing, the inflections and corruption of pronunciation of his own language further reinforcing the varied and dynamic nature of his race. Prior to the fateful first encounter between his race and hers in 2041, her people had eschewed the idea of military might as anything other than a necessity for continued existence. The humans had seemed to embrace militarism in a different light; the concept of warrior ambassadors whereby their military bodies acted as representatives of good will as well as harbingers of destruction. When the Vulcan High Command had expressed doubt and reservation about the militarism inherent in Earth's forays into intergalactic travel and exploration they had quelled the misgivings by pointing out that the expectation that all extant races would welcome humans in a spirit of cooperation and mutual interest would be folly.

In order to preserve its interests humanity had to offer an open hand, but enclosed in an armored glove that could, if necessary, turn into a fist. "Si vis pacem parabellum," if you want peace prepare for war, an ancient human maxim that MCS embraced with fervor. It had been a hotly debated issue until the compromise that created Military Assistance Command - Vulcan had been formed and implemented. The bellicose nature of the soldiers sent as part of the first exchange program had at first alarmed many Vulcans until they came to realize the personable and cooperative nature of the professional warriors. In a decided reversal of expectations, humans had volunteered information and design schematics to their Vulcan allies rather than attempting to keep their unusually advanced technology secret. This had, of course, made the High Commands agenda of quiet espionage unnecessary, and had, almost, made her initial mission as a de facto spy pointless.

Early raids against human extra-system shipping had borne out the legitimacy of human concerns. Attacks by extant species who were prone to acts of piracy had necessitated the inclusion of military personnel on their simple freighters and early results had shown that their efficacy in either defusing or prosecuting conflict was commendable. When MCS had expressed concern over Vulcan's capacity to adequately defend itself, the High Command had balked, almost infuriated in spite of the emotional reserve inherent in her race. A series of exercises had quickly served to silence High Command's protests as the humans illustrated their tactical and strategic superiority in spite of their less advanced technological level at the time. After 25 years of enjoying the added security of MAC-V's presence, the High Command had decided it was time for further integration and cooperation between their two races.

Human advances in technology had occurred at a startling rate, in less than 40 years they had transitioned from primitive and rudimentary Warp 1 freighters to their current generation of warp 7.5 warships. CGX-01 Enterprise was the first of 12 such ships being produced, and as such was the joint armored fist and open hand of human policy. Her stationing to the ship had been a coup for Vulcan, they had realized the logical advantage of deepening their almost lop-sided friendship with Earth. She had seen the comparison made in Earth's media that the relationship was like that of the quietly friendly hulking brute, in this case earth, and the wise but weaker genius, Vulcan. The assertion had seemed offensive until the Klingon Empire had launched its first military foray into their combined space in 2147. Military Command Starfleet handed the alliance of several warrior houses a devastating defeat as Federation destroyer groups and marine battalions dealt the Klingon forces defeat after defeat. Vulcan High Command had been initially stunned by the ferocity with which MCS Marine forces fought the ground battles, completely halting Klingon infantry actions and wiping out the contingent forces. Even more startling was how measured the response was and the ease with which the victorious MCS troops would cease actions, allowing the Klingons to leave the battlefield rather than being slaughtered outright. The fighting had culminated in the Klingon attempt to use Andorian Colonists as hostages as leverage to keep their remaining main-force ground elements from being destroyed by besieging MCS forces. Starfleet had calmly pulled back the Marines, contacted the Klingon forces and issued an ultimatum; surrender and we will let you evacuate the planet and return to your space, if any harm befalls the colonists the Starfleet forces would orbitally bombard the Klingon main-force. The initial confusion and worry this had caused the hostage takers allowed MCS to insert special forces teams that reduced the hostage takers and save the Andorians.

Her mate had been there, earlier in his career as part of the MCS Marine Brigade Landing Teams. One of the first in to ensure that Klingon mines and obstructions in shuttle landing zones were cleared and later coordinating the construction and operation of fire bases, molecular transport stations, and landing signal systems. Despite the tame nature of the latter, his status as one of the first "boots" on the ground meant he had faced the withering fire of Klingon infantry assaults. It was perhaps this dangerous duty that had given him a great appreciation of his current status as Enterprise's chief engineer, maintaining the pride-of-the-fleet Warp 7.5 engine and the complex battery of phased energy cannons and rail guns. During that particular conflict he had sustained a number of wounds from Klingon bat'leths, one in particular to his back during a position over-run following a landing action had resulted in persistent pain as the scar tissue would become inflamed. The injury had plagued him for years often resulting in weeks of virtually sleepless nights, it was during their first tour of duty together that she had introduced him to Vulcan Neuro-pressure as a way to assist his sleep cycle and had, consequently, sowed the first seeds of their intimacy. For all his martial pedigree, he was first and foremost a lover of science and mechanics, preferring the confines of engineering to the weapon and combat training armories in the ship.

"Two wall sections in my quarters appear to be improperly secured or mounted." She coyly replied in her concise Vulcan manner, it was not a total misrepresentation. The seams of those two particular sections did not match the others in her quarters which seemed to suggest some level of deviation during their installation.

"A'right, I'll be sure to get Kelby on that." His eyes momentarily flicked as if reviewing her facial features to determine if she was perpetuating a fictional complaint for some ulterior motive; clearly suspecting she was, he let a bare hint of a smile, a human "tell".

"It would be more agreeable, if possible, that the issue be dealt with expeditiously."

"Unfortunately, sub-commander, neither Kelby nor the regular engineerin' staff are 'vailable to remedy that particular issue right now." He spoke in a manner that was almost teasing, as if challenging her to make up an excuse to get him into her quarters.

"Do your current duties prevent you from addressing the matter?" She knew they didn't, put into dry dock as they were for retrofits. He was technically on leave, but devotion to his craft and his family's current status as vacationing on Risa gave him very little reason to leave the ship.

"No, I don't 'spose there's anythin' so urgent that I can't fix whatever problem your experiencin' at the moment."

"Very well, I will escort you." She almost lilted the words, an embarrassment that could have been compounded if one of the retrofit crews had been in the vicinity.

"That ain't necessary, sub-commander." There was a glint in his eyes, he was going to play the part as long as possible. The nature of their relationship had yet to be revealed to either the crew or their superiors, however they had reason to believe the MCS Admiralty board and the High Council was at least partially aware.

"I must insist. If you were to become injured during the process of the repair, you might become incapacitated and unable to seek aid for injuries." Pressing the issue as she was, she of course realized that it was highly unlikely he could hurt or incapacitate himself, not for something so rudimentary.

"There's a very low chance that I'll find m'self in that situation, Sub-commander."

"I would be remiss if I did not ensure that your safety is not compromised, as a senior officer and representative of the Vulcan High Command, it is my obligation." She was relatively certain he would see through the bluff easily, but MCS was strict about protocol, especially about the behavior of its officers and enlisted personnel when dealing with what they called "foreign nationals". This had been her primary deterrent from seeking a relationship with him in the beginning despite her profound curiosity about him from the point of their first meeting. Most of the MCS naval and marine personnel she had contact with previously were almost painfully professional, even by Vulcan standards. He, on the other hand, had been boisterous and energetic while still maintaining the patina of martial strictness. Their neuro-pressure sessions had served to wipe away much of the pretense, she began to see him for who he was, the fact he was so different mentally and emotionally from the warrior-engineer he presented himself as intrigued and excited her.

"A'right, Sub-commander, lead th' way."

If not for Enterprises role as flagship of Task Force: Saber during the Xindi crisis and the necessity that she, as part of it, inject gradually increasing doses of Trellium-D in order to build a tolerance and avoid the maddening effect it had on Vulcans she likely never would have been able to adequately open up to him and, consequently, form the mate bond. She had sealed the relationship by taking the unprecedented step of declaring a Kal-if-fee in his stead when her betrothed Koss had insisted on the completion of their mate bond after they returned victorious from Xindi space. When informed of her decision the human had responded with apprehension, noting that MCS protocol forbade him from interfering with the cultural practices of another species. She consequently contacted MAC-V inquiring as to whether special stipulation or permission could be acquired. Days passed as Starfleet deliberated over the issue before finally issuing a statement saying that his participation in an "unprovoked" incident of aggression against a foreign national resulting in "serious injury or death" would result in a Court Martial. He had taken that, correctly, to mean he would have to simply defeat Koss without maiming him and that the duel would have to be fomented by another individual, he could not instigate it, himself.

The memory of the fight still caused a twinge of primal excitement in her, her chosen mate had acquitted himself as his genetic superiority and profession had dictated. Koss had been defeated soundly, and the human had been forced to talk his Vulcan opponent out of continuing to fight where he was so clearly outmatched. The fact that he had refused to kill Koss had brought the matter to scholars to determine if the victory was legitimate, the realization that she had already formed a mate bond with the human prompted them to quickly declare in the Starfleet Officer's favor and put the matter to rest. Illogically the scholars had deigned to not mention the fact that she was already bonded to the human through an act of passion, still it was a mercy not just to her sense of decorum but also to her family's standing. Koss had been less decorous, going as far as to forget his emotional restraint and began insulting the human, perhaps intending to foment a genuine battle to the death. Still her mate, warrior diplomat that he was, had tried to assuage the blow to Koss' pride by informing him that she was a highly emotional creature and that his logic would chafe under her emotions and vice versa. This had embarrassed her more than a little at the time, but that was quickly overridden by the overwhelming relief and measured joy over the willingness of Vulcan cultural law to consider him her rightful mate, and his willingness to fight for the right to be considered such. He had been willing, his brutal efficiency and unswerving ferocity in prosecuting the attack to establish dominance and a swift victory had been indication enough to her of his desire to be hers and she, his.

Of course they had been forced to maintain the illusion that no such relationship existed, a highly informal inquiry on the part of MCS had determined that the relationship could be considered fraternization and was not appropriate given her status as an observer on the ship. Pragmatically, however, MCS had determined that they constituted a sign of the future in Earth/Vulcan relations and the end result was that they would have to conduct themselves in a professional manner at all times when serving together. A fact that had, at times, strained the relationship. Being so close to one another but unable to act in a manner that conformed to human standards of the romantic or matrimonial relationship had worn on him profoundly. At all times she felt a deep sense of affection coming from him specifically in relation to her, at other times she found herself accosted by his mental pornography, thinking of her in ways that caused her sympathetic twinges of desire until they found themselves mentally coupled without the benefit of the physical release. In his control of what was truly an uncontrollable longing for her, she had found herself deeply in love with the human. His lack of pre-condition, his willingness to accept the burden of seeing but never touching despite his comparatively short life-span was something that pleased her.

Before reaching her quarters the ship's intercom began broadcasting the first notes of "Retreat" the recording made from some ancient human brass instrument. The Engineer placed his right foot over the left, spinning smartly 180 degrees to face the bow of the ship, snapping his right hand upwards to his brow, fingers pressed firmly against one another, the back of his hand facing outwards. Two of the retrofit crew walking down the same corridor stopped, hands clasped behind their backs, as civilian contractors they were not required to accord the same honors, but did so out of tradition, respect, and a strange form of pride. He held the human salute through the 29 second playing of "Retreat" which was followed by the recorded sound of an pre-warp ballistic cannon firing a charge. He held the rigid human salute as the tinny sound of "To the colors" played for another 42 seconds. It was just one of the strange and purposeless customs that many Vulcans had found strange about the MCS. The worshipful reverence over the symbol of a flag seemed illogical as anything other than a method of forcing discipline in its members. But humans tended to display seemingly confusing reverence for objects and ideas that seemed contradictory to their nature. This was best exemplified by witnessing a sporting event where thousands of humans had stood, hand over their heart a song that served as the Earth anthem called "Simple Gifts" was played. The race often seemed to display bizarre and inappropriate emotional reactions to such rudimentary stimuli; tears, cries of delight, cheers, and applause over a tonally simple piece of music.

Humans did indeed seem to love their music; it ran the gamut from loud and brash to soft and subdued. Of course MAC-V had introduced Vulcan to some of the more colorful martial customs of Earth. After the Klingon Invasion, the victory tour of Vulcan had included a battalion of MCS Marines marching through Shi'kahr had featured a brass band playing a military march named "Semper Fidelis" whose name had been taken from an antediluvian human tongue. Many Vulcans had marveled at the seemingly unconscious tight order with which the three hundred-odd humans marched, moving in perfect unison, at a barked order all snapping their upper bodies partially right to salute the High Command still in full stride as the jaunt continued to play on brass, percussion, and woodwind. In comparison to the course Klingons and classicist Cardasians, both cultures with great martial emphasis, humans seemed strange and novel despite their equally strong militarist streak.

When "To The Colors" ended he turned back to nod to her, indicating they should proceed. The retrofit crew similarly turned and continued on their way. To the privacy minded Vulcan this was a relief, she had not wanted them to witness the Starfleet Commander, her mate, entering the quarters. Reaching the door she punched in her lock code and the door opened. She entered and felt him follow a step behind. She turned to face him, expecting an immediate act of physical affection only to have him stand their stolidly. She waited, her mind probing at his for motivation or reaction, she sensed bemusement and little else. There was a twinge of jealousy, immediately projecting a memory of his personal quarters that were a fraction of the size of hers. Being a representative of the Vulcan High Command she was accorded an ambassadorial suite where-as his spartan accommodations consisted of little more than the bare minimum of accoutrements necessary for an MCS officer. Based on her rare visits to his quarters she was relatively certain she had been in closets that were more spacious. His sole comfort in his quarters was the fact he was not forced to "hot rack" like the enlisted crew, nor was he required to deal with a bunk-mate as most junior officers were assigned to two bunk quarters. This was a small mercy for her as well as she was relatively certain that if he cried out and possible called her name during their rare moments of mental intimacy as she did, it would have other members of the crew seriously questioning what exactly their connection was.

"Well, where's th' problem?" He smiled almost in spite of himself, sensing her mild agitation.

"Trip...?" It was more than a little exasperated.

"You brought me down here t'fix'a problem, I'll be damned if I walk outta here without fixin' it." He grinned, then faked military seriousness, "You're not givin' me false repair gigs, are ya, sub-commander?"

She rolled her eyes, "There is indeed an issue with the wall panels." She marched across the room, extending a finger to the location of the poorly fitted panels.

He ran a hand down the abnormally raised panel edge and nodded to himself. "Looks like th'bolts coulda got cross-threaded durin' installation, don't know how this managed t'pass muster." He pulled an electric socket wrench from his hip pocket, inserting a spline drive and quickly removing the mounting bolts, holding each between his lips. Lifting the panel free his head immediately recoiled away from the exposed interior wall section. He made some sound of dissatisfaction, reaching up to pull the bolts from where they rested between his pursed lips and shoving them in his pocket. He looked carefully at the heavy armor plate that formed the wall, using his thumb to measure the distance between the threaded holes used to attach wall paneling.

"Yep, its lookin' like they misaligned th' hole. Looks ugly, but doesn't much affect stability of th' bulkhead."

"Approximately how long will it take to repair?" She inquired, brushing his mind again searching for the response she desired.

"Bout five minutes'r so."

"How long to ensure it is very thoroughly repaired?"

"Bout five-" he stopped mid sentence, "Why, sub-commander T'pol, did ya' bring me down here on false pretenses?" She sensed his mischievousness.

"Very...thoroughly." She intoned again.

"I'm on duty, ya' know."

"No, you are not." T'pol countered succinctly. "I overlooked ensign Sato distributing the R and R notifications; you are, by order of Military Command Starfleet, on leave for the next one hundred and twenty hours."

Tucker scrunched his brow, "I must've missed that message."

She arched her brows. It was clear he hadn't been aware, but she found herself more than a little confused as to how he could assume that everyone else on the ship had shore leave but him.

"I didn't have to put in a leave request?"

"Apparently not."

"Well, guessin' I'd better find somethin' to do with m'self for the next five days." His mind gave no hints as to whether he was being coy or not. She decided to assume that he was given his oft rather indirect sense of humor and his propensity for teasing.

"I have some suggestions in that regard." She projected her desire to further develop on their mate bond to his mind without reservation.

"Darlin' if you start gettin' frisky now I'm not gonna be able t'get through 'nother eighteen month tour without layin' a finger on ya."

"Based on some of your thought patterns, I am not entirely certain how you do so now." T'pol rebuttaled archly.

"Ya really don't wanna know how that works..." His mind betrayed him no sooner than he had said it.

The mental impression of Trip in the broom closet sized combination shower, latrine, and wash room; hot water flowing over him, taking in ragged breaths, heart pounding, left hand braced against the wall as he manipulated himself vigorously with the right to mental images of her, recollections and snatches of memory about her smell, her taste, her feel. A vivid picture in his mind of her face, the expressions she made during intimacy. All the minutia of their first coupling, recounted with startling accuracy elicited an immediate blush. As she flushed a slightly green tint she found herself at once mildly disgusted by the act but also strangely flattered, at times she found it strange and appalling the lack of sexual restraint among humans and their inexorable and near-constant drive to mate, even simulating the act for the purpose of biological gratification, yet the fact he only thought of her during the act caused a strange feeling of pride and self-confidence, emotions she oft tried to suppress. But given humans' rather mercurial sexual nature, it filled her with a sense of ease. Of course she also didn't mind the residual self-image his mind had fabricated of his body sculpted by generations of genetic manipulation glistening under the shower head.

"An...intriguing solution that may ultimately be unnecessary." T'pol commented, still blushing a verdant shade.

"How's that?" Trip found himself inadvertently aroused, perhaps by dint to her reaction to his accidental revelation about his self-regulatory masturbation.

"I have notified High Command that I wish to transfer my service to Military Command Starfleet active duty." She assumed the revelation would please him but sensed a glut of apprehension and misgiving.

"If you do that, they're gonna send you to another boat, lickity split!"

"No, they will not. There are political ramifications in separating us."

"Darlin' I'm justa dumb hick from Florida, I don't have a clue what you're talkin' 'bout."

She found the assertion amusing, his files indicated a measured intelligence quotient of 148. His placement on the Enterprise had been the result of proficiency, adaptability, and intellect, not just a random or "lucky" assignment as he sometimes maintained. Admittedly she did find him prone to some degree of social ineptitude, there was something almost delightfully awkward about his time spent with her on Vulcan. His capacity to read-the-mood with his fellow humans had led him into a number of situations dominated by uncomfortable silences and tripping over his own words as he tried desperately to determine if he had said something to offend a calmly staring Vulcan.

"Are you aware that we are the first recorded mated human and Vulcan couple? It places us in a rather unique legal and cultural position."

"That may be, but I signed a contract and swore a oath that said I have'ta uphold the Uniformed Services Ethics standard. Section fifteen, article eleven, states specifically that I'm forbidden to engage in conduct unbefittin' an Officer of Military Command Starfleet whereas it pertains to subordinate personnel or foreign nationals, in this case foreign nationals bein' you. " He recited the line from memory, mentally considering the way MCS had effectively given him a pass in regards to Kal-if-fee months before.

He had not been privy to the legal ramifications and considerations that had prompted the rather unorthodox interpretation of protocol that had allowed the events of that week on Vulcan to slip through the cracks without so much as whispers of an Article 15. He had been more than a bit confused and curious as to what had transpired, what had prompted MCS to allow for what was, effectively, a gross breach of his oath of enlistment and Vulcan High Command to allow for what bordered on repudiation of their cultural rites and practices. He knew T'pol knew what had transpired, but she kept it locked away and all he could ever sense in regard to those events was that it was something she would never reveal to him.

"And if we were to legally bonded according to earth custom?" She relished the shock the question caused in him. Occulted reactions, a mixture of confusion, joy, and fear swirling into a homogenous mixture that felt like the rendered essence of emotion so neatly packaged with the human sensibility that prevented it from taking on an imminently genocidal quality. To be certain she felt that he wanted to be her mate under both their systems, but felt pause over uncertainty about what such a union would imply. She wanted to reach out to his mind and provide the calm and comfort of her reason but she was, similarly, unsure what she could expect. There was some small comfort in the fact that both MCS and the High Command had, for years now, been trying to deepen their alliance. Neither side, of course, knew what concession to make and felt that inquiring after such would be deemed in poor taste. A marriage of their races symbolically through the marriage of individuals would serve to help bridge the divide. Sadly she was not due to enter pon farr for another three years as she theorized hybrid offspring would serve to further bridge the gap. She also found herself irrationally curious about what traits would be exhibited by a human-Vulcan mixed child. He began to smile at her, the expression creeping onto his face, starting on the left cheek and moving with glacial inexorability to the right.

"How's three sound?" He asked, his expression sending too many signals for her to adequately categorize and interpret them all.

"Three?"

"Babies..." His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, tenuous and delicate, bedroom words.

Her reaction was to go wide eyed, she wasn't aware she had projected the idea at all, she was relatively certain she hadn't, yet somehow he had latched onto it. She felt waves of feelings batten her from his mind, seeming to throw her back as each struck, broke, and receded away, the blow threatening to throw her off her feet, the retreat threatening to take her feet out from under her. She suddenly was finding it hard to breath, harder to concentrate, harder to keep the feelings that always pushed against her resolve like a rain swelled reservoir trying to breach the dam of her logical resolve. With each lash of his mind, she took a deeper breath, trying to force oxygen to her brain which seemed to cry out against the drowning death of logic failure. Each step he took closer, she felt her resolve failing. All the sensations of desire, love, passion, excitement, and fear were pushing her beyond her standard threshold of perception, aware only of her own embers of longing tasting the dry tinder of her instinctive mind and blazing anew. Her face burned with a heat she couldn't understand, flushed green and desiring the relative cool of his lips to help slake the fire. Another step closer to her and just one step away from her losing all composure.

"Trip...I will not..." She was almost sobbing each word, choking back her feelings of lust, fingers now digging into the chest of his uniform, wanting to pull it away. "I will not be able...to conceive...for three more years."

"I know darlin', it doesn't matter a bit t'me. I just...it would be the best thing in my life if I could spend the rest of it with you." His hand gently caressed the inferno in her left cheek, his words still soft, emotionally they seemed a proxy for cold logic, in their own right their tone incited neither emotion nor did they seem to promote it, yet still... "And three lil ones, two girls and a boy, or two boys and a girl, or whatever it may be, however it may be. And I know you want it too."

"Three pon farr cycles, will take...twenty one years to complete." She was craning her neck now, standing on her toes, trying to reach the lips that would either kill this thing in her or set it free. "Is it worth it to you, to wait that long?"

The waves of emotion abruptly changed from tempest to calm, no hint of reservation or doubt, it was just as if a storm tossed sea was suddenly replaced with a morning lake. The sensation soothed, quenching the uncontrollable passions and leaving her with a feeling of contentment and benign languor.

"As long as it takes." Smiling, and then a quick peck on the lips was his reply to her affectionate yet desperate pawing which had, even now, settled as the raging flame had been snuffed into to a smoking ember. The distinctly human mixture of affection, patience, and gentle teasing left her feeling loved, such blithe simplicity. Logic, however, had yet to correctly erect the barriers against her emotionality and she began to feel a little cheated. She wanted the catharsis of sex, the calming and satiating effect, the mild embarrassment after the fact that helped quell the urge for at least a short time. She could feel the longing in him, and felt herself surprised at how quickly he had set it aside as he, even know, was heading back to the wall panels.

"Trip!"

"Gotta fix the panels, darlin'."

"You have left me..." she sighed reluctant to say the words but knowing it was the best description, "hot and bothered. I would find satiating the urge for sexual relations, agreeable."

He turned his head back, affecting what was at once a devilish and sheepish grin, pointing at the wall in feigned innocence. "Panels..."

"Then you shall engage in your husbandly duties to me after you fix the panels." It was more of a statement than a question.

"No, after that I'm gonna be checkin' out some new manuverin' vernier algorithms for the type fifty one torpedos."

"In most species the idea of refusing sex is highly illogical."

"Well, your always sayin' that humans are illogical." He winked.

"Trip." She found the word was more of a protest than a pet-name when she used it.

When he turned this time his face was no longer playful, but painfully, deadly serious. "Look, ya' think I don't wanna normal functional relationship? Ya think I don't go t'bed every night wishin' you were in it with me? It's hard as hell, darlin' but it's just what I gotta deal with. And if I thought for a second that you were wantin' me as bad as I'm wantin' you, I think I'd just lose it. In five days we get under way again, and we might be out six months we might be out sixteen, and in that time we're not gonna' be able to share more than'a few minutes together, just th'two of us and a whole lot a time in between to think about it. And of course if ya join up with Starfleet, you'll end up under the same Uniformed Services Ethics code and in one of those lockers and we won't even be able to do the Neuro-pressure."

"We could always both get ourselves demoted to junior officers and get assigned to dual quarters." She arched a brow, almost teasingly.

This has elicited a smile, "Judgin' by how frisky ya get, we'd end up dead or paralyzed after one night in a room that small."

T'pol once again took on a slightly pistachio shade, not so much out of the impropriety of the comment as the truth lying there-in. Still, from the stand-point of trying to improve and solidify the relations between their respective peoples, they would have to become the prototypical "happy" interspecies couple. Theirs would have to be a joy and closeness that would illustrate Earth and Vulcans peoples and allies that they were strong through their differences and the fundamental elements of sentience could bind them together. She would have to find a way to sway the politics, it was not just logic at stake, it was her relationship with the human she loved as well.

"Trip, is it not customary to occasionally take one's wife for a 'night on the town'?"

"Well, darlin', we're married under Vulcan law, not sure if the same dynamic applies."

"Then would it not also be considered customary to take one's...fiancé, for a night on the town?" She had been forced to find the human word, their betrothal customs were so much more unwieldy by comparison.

"Point taken, had any ideas, darlin'?"

She let a Vulcan smile slip, which was to say a faint movement of her lips and eyes, "Anywhere, but here."

He chuckled, "Alright soon-to-be Mrs. Tucker...I 'spose those verniers can wait til t'morraw"

[! Author's Note !] I know that Naval/Marine Flag protocol is "Retreat" followed by "Carry On" but I always was fond of "To the Colors" and its my story...at least I think it is.