The Good That Men Do - Andy Mangels [60]
He paused, as if searching for the right words. “And now, Trip is dead… and we’re out here chasing aliens who want to stop our exploration, who don’t care about noble ideals, and who never had the good fortune to know Trip.”
Archer turned and looked toward the viewport, and into the inky space beyond it. “In a few weeks, I have to go give that speech at the Coalition Compact signing ceremony. I have to talk about how all the risks were worth it, about how worthwhile it’s all been…”
“Trip would be the first to say it was worthwhile,” T’Pol said, her voice barely wavering as she swallowed still more of her sorrow.
Archer looked at her and smiled, but his expression contained no joy or mirth. She could see in his eyes that he was conflicted, that something else, something deeper, was troubling him. It was a look of regret and uncertainty. He opened his mouth as if to say something further, then looked away, to the viewport and the warp-distorted streaks of starlight beyond.
Finally, he stood and walked to the door. “I’ll leave you to finish here, T’Pol. But if you need to talk to me- even if you need to let down your famous Vulcan guard- you’re welcome to. I won’t tell.”
T’Pol regarded her captain for a moment. She wondered what he would think if she revealed that one of the last things she had told her mother before her death was that she didn’t want anything further to do with her. How would Archer feel if he were to learn that when she had first learned of little Elizabeth’s mixed parentage, she had wanted nothing more than for the child to disappear?
What would his reaction be if he knew that Trip and T’Pol had decided to break off their relationship completely on Vulcan, but that she had found among his belongings an undelivered letter written after their journey to Vulcan- a letter in which Trip had described his deep and full love for her, and the pain their separation was causing him?
And worst of all were her own traitorous thoughts, full of love and other emotions as well, all of which brought her anguish every time she considered life without Trip.
And now, she had no choice but to forge ahead alone. Her mother, her child, her lover. All gone.
She swallowed and blinked, masking her shame behind what she hoped was an impassive Vulcan mask. “Thank you for your offer, Captain. But I believe I can deal with such things on my own.”
The words seemed to echo in the air after Archer exited.
On my own.
T’Pol lay her head down on one of Trip’s pillows. Then, silently, agonizingly, before she could halt them, tears rolled down her cheeks.
Sixteen
Saturday, February 15, 2155
Deep Space
“ADIGEON PRIME,” Trip said as he idly studied the image of the blue-green planet displayed on Phuong’s secondary library-computer monitor. According to the Branson’s navigational computer, their destination lay some eighteen hours away at their current speed. “Don’t know a lot about the place.”
Seated in a relaxed fashion in the pilot’s seat, Phuong cast a grin in Trip’s direction. “That may be because the Adigeons don’t like to call a lot of attention to themselves. They’re businessmen.”
Trip shifted in the copilot’s seat, struggling vainly to get comfortable as he turned to face Phuong. “Don’t businessmen need to advertise?”
“Not when so much of their business depends on… discretion,” Phuong said.
Trip nodded, understanding. “So they’re criminals.”
“That’s oversimplifying things quite a bit, Commander,” Phuong said, shaking his head. “Let’s just say they often act as third-party brokers to many interstellar business entities who value their privacy. Including the Romulans, who are notoriously secretive about their military and civil affairs and their strengths and weaknesses. You might describe the Adigeons as a sort of cultural and intelligence membrane between