Chapter 15: Lorian's Ship

Nobody said anything – mainly because nobody knew what to say. Trip was sure that he probably did quite a good fish impression, staring open-mouthed at his son.

My son, he reminded himself mentally, before he noticed that everyone was staring at either Lorian or T'Pol, waiting for someone to say something.

"Dock your boat, son," Trip said, when he noticed that T'Pol appeared to be shell-shocked.

He went over to her and put his hand on her back. In every normal situation she would probably protest such thing during duty hours, but this was not a normal situation. Trip was convinced that the last thing she needed were rumors of the captain doing a 'deer-in-headlights' on the bridge.

"Let's go," he whispered and without any acknowledgment, she simply followed him into the turbo-lift.

"You have the bridge, Commander," Malcolm quipped, giving the missing command in a mixture of amusement and surprise, when the two were gone. He knew that Hoshi probably wanted to give him a dirty look again, but even she couldn't help smiling.

"How you're holding up?" Archer asked, walking with Shran and the MACO detachment towards the Gateway, where a shuttle pod was waiting for them just outside the boundaries of the natural dampening field.

"What do you mean?"

"The heat," Archer explained. "It's hard for us. It must be hell for an Andorian out here."

Looking over to Shran, Archer saw him open the zipper of his uniform a bit to point at a metallic looking undergarment.

"Cooling suit," Shran replied dryly.

Wanting to know why that worked in this disabling environment, Archer started to ask, but caught himself, remembering that he was talking to an Andorian. "Let me guess," he said with a hint of amused sarcasm. "It's specifically designed to work on Vulcan, more precisely - in the Forge?"

"Yes; it's made of two layers of metal, separated by an organic catalyst layer. A slow endothermic reaction cools the body down. But there are many hot worlds, not only Vulcan."

Archer grinned and shook his head. "Considering how quickly we disposed of over 20 Vulcans, or whatever they were, I'm surprised that Andoria never invaded Vulcan?"

"We would have occupied the Forge in a matter of days," Shran said. "A Vulcan with a lirpa has no chance against a skilled warrior with an Ushaan-tor."

"I've seen that," Archer said with an appreciative nod, remembering how quickly Shran had killed two of the attackers with his ice mining tool.

"But as soon as their precious technology works, they are superior. No matter how much the Imperial Guard would like to make it look otherwise – technologically Andoria doesn't stand a chance against Vulcan."

"Yet you developed enough technology, specifically to kill them," Archer said and shook his head slightly.

"Else they would have conquered us," Shran said defensively. "I've heard you talking with the Corporal yesterday, about the surgery those Vulcans had."

"Yeah, what of it?" Archer asked.

"There are old myths on Andoria - myths about deformed Vulcans, bringing death and destruction, riding on the back of giant birds. Maybe those deformed Vulcans exist after all."

Archer was stunned – could it be... ? "We once ran into a Romulan mine field," he said with a hint of shock in his voice. "Their ships look like giant birds of prey."

Neither of them said anything for a long time.

If possible, Trip would have shoved the airlock open with his bare hands. Somehow the few minutes that it took to dock the two Enterprise's seemed to expand to endless hours. When the doors finally slid open and the haggard frame of Lorian came into view, he pounced and grabbed him in a bear-hug.

"Damn son, it's so good to see you alive," he babbled misty-eyed. "Normally you would have deserved a slap in the face, for shooting your old man, but I couldn't do that, you know. Hell, you..."

"Trip!" It was the first word from T'Pol since she had first seen Lorian.

"Sorry," the ship's chief engineer said and released Lorian from his clutches, realizing what a ridiculous scene he must have made. He watched the reunion of T'Pol and their unlikely offspring, silently.

"Mother, it is good to see you again," Lorian said, his voice giving away his exhaustion.

"I am pleased to see you alive."

The area before the airlock fell silent and Trip watched Lorian simply holding T'Pol's hands in his.

"Is she... ?" T'Pol asked silently.

"You ... she ... died in the battle with the Kovalaans. Her quarters suffered a direct hit."

"I grieve with thee."

"My science officer, Yuichi Sato believes that her death enabled our existence in this time line," their unlikely son explained.

"Trip does believe so as well."

"Son, what can we do for your crew?" Trip interrupted. "Do you need Phlox or an engineering team?"

"We suffered several casualties and as you can see the ship is in bad condition, especially the engine. Most of my crew has suffered from malnutrition for some days. We are grateful for any help you can give."

"Send your crew to our mess hall, I will inform Chef about the added meals necessary," T'Pol said. "How many crew members are on your ship?"

"Only fifty-five," Lorian said and the sadness in his voice sent a shiver down Trip's spine. "We lost almost fifty people since we last saw each other."

"We could get the second galley going as well," Trip said, trying to hide the shock behind professionalism. "Perhaps your cook can come over here and prepare some meals for the races we don't know."

He saw the nod of Lorian, before the tired looking son of his, went back to his ship to inform the crew.

"Welcome back, Captains."

"Thanks, Barring," Archer said. "Anything happened, while we were on the surface?"

"Not much; The High Council contacted us and they asked that you contact them, once you're back."

"Ok, I'll call them, but first I need a long, hot shower – I've got half of the damn Forge on my uniform."

Trip had a sense of déjà-vu. Had it really been just over a year ago, since he had been working on the injectors with a son by his side, who was three times his age? T'Pol would probably meditate the whole night over this, he thought.

"Son," he said with a sigh and shook his head in frustration. "Forget it, this engine is toast."

"I was afraid, you'd say that," he answered and Trip was still not completely used to see a scowl on the face of someone, who looked Vulcan; at least mostly. The rounded eyebrows looked distinctly human, but the ears were a Vulcan detail that was hard to miss.

"So, what happened over the last year," Trip asked and indicated Lorian to sit down with him on one of the large tool boxes standing around. "The Xindi said you guys were all over the sector."

"The Kovaalans were not merely upset about trespassing. They consider the corridor a place where their deities reside."

"And we desecrated the place by blasting right through it."

"Indeed. They kept chasing us all over the Expanse. We were able to hide in nebulae several times, but never long enough to finish all critical repairs, let alone having any chance to replenish our supplies."

"Dammit, why didn't you try to reach Earth? You must have noticed that the anomalies went away."

"We noticed that, but Earth was still off-limits. There are too many stretches of space between here and Earth that have no nebulae or other natural phenomena to hide in. Our engine is a century old and in disrepair. We had to take it offline at least every second day to cool down."

"So you would've been on the run all your life, if we hadn't come back." Trip said and the relief about having found them grew even bigger.

"I knew you would come back," Lorian said resolutely. "I've seen it in your eyes. You gained new hope to have a life with mother when we met the first time. You would try to find out what happened to us, when we didn't follow through the corridor."

"First Erika, now you, is everybody able to read my mind?" Trip asked, amazed by Lorian's spot-on analysis.

"I don't know, who Erika is, but I don't need to read your mind; you're my father."

Trip remained silent as he contemplated Lorian's words.

"Must be strange," he said after a while. "Losing your parents and suddenly meeting them again, younger than you've ever seen them."

"I've learned to suspend logic for many aspects of our very existence. It had been easier for me, since I had known you in my life time. Other crew members met their great grandparents. They had a much bigger leap of logic to overcome."

"That's for sure," Trip said. "Anyways, since we can't do much here, why don't you go for a rest and meet us for dinner in the evening. Hoshi and Malcolm will be there, too."

"I shall look after my crew members, and will meet you in the evening."

"Brilliant," Trip beamed. "1900 in T'Pol's quarters. I suppose you know the way?"

Trip grinned at Lorian's raised brow.

"Like mother, like son," he said and left engineering after giving Lorian a pat on the shoulder.

"I have them," he heard the young Ensign at the com station say and John started walking towards the ready room.

"Patch it through, Ensign."

Arriving at his place in the ready room and punching the monitor button, Jon was surprised to see Minister T'Pau's face instead of Minister Kuvak, who had briefed him on the mission.

"Captain Archer, it is agreeable to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too, Minister," he answered, still not quite sure why she had accepted the call.

"Minister Kuvak is with me in this room, but I wanted to hear about the mission first hand."

Jon wasn't sure, why she had so astutely guessed his thoughts, but he tried to keep his confusion well hidden.

"Was the mission successful?" T'Pau asked.

"It was, Minister," he answered with a tired nod. "Nineteen fugitives have been eliminated; two took their own lives to avoid capture."

"And former Administrator V'Las... ?"

"I eliminated him personally. The fugitives have been buried on site, the human casualties have been returned to Columbia."

"We grieve with thee. How many casualties did you suffer?"

"Two; One was killed in an ambush attack, another in the final confrontation with V'Las and his remaining followers."

"Please forward the identities of the fallen. We wish to commend them on behalf of all of Vulcan. You all have done an invaluable Service to our people."

"As you wish, Minister," Jon answered before his face turned into a small scowl. "We were honored to help, but with all due respect, we hope that the High Council will not make it a habit of calling Starfleet in whenever there's a dirty job to do."

"Of course not," T'Pau answered with a nod that looked almost submissive to Jon. "It is exceedingly rare that executions become necessary on Vulcan. It is only due to the precarious situation on Vulcan that we were forced to put the burden on our allies. Such instances will hopefully never arise again."

"That's good to hear, Minister," Jon said. "There's something else. We noticed some irregularities with the fugitives..." He was cut off by T'Pau's raised hand.

"Captain, we are aware of possible ... irregularities."

"And you didn't think it would be prudent to tell us about it?" Jon asked with a slight irritation seeping into his voice.

"I did not think it would be important for this mission."

"Do you allow me to speak freely, Minister?" Jon asked, now sporting a prominent scowl.

"Of course."

"It took me years to learn to trust Vulcans and a major obstacle along this path was that your people never gave us any information beyond what you thought was the absolute minimum, necessary to get the job done. I understand your need for secrecy when it comes to private details. I had Surak's katra with me long enough to understand that, but when you ask us to go on a mission that can get people killed, it is patently illogical to send us out without all available information."

"No offense meant," he added after a while, when he saw T'Pau's raised eyebrow. Instead of a rebuttal, he got a completely unexpected reply.

"There is no offense, where none is taken, Captain. Minister Kuvak confronted me with the same logic today," she explained with a nod to the Minister, who apparently sat with her, but out of viewing range. "Now that we are working to build up a formal Coalition, we shall take this logic under advice."

"That's very good to hear, Minister."

Jon saw his statement answered by an affirmative nod, before T'Pau came to the next question.

"Is Commander Shran unharmed?"

"He is perfectly fine. He was a big help and actually commanded the mission. But it's Captain Shran now. He became a member of Starfleet two days before we started the mission."

Jon watched her reaction and he couldn't suppress a grin, seeing how T'Pau struggled to keep her cute pout from turning into a Vulcan almost-smile. Since when did I start to think of Vulcans as cute? He thought to himself.

"It appears, Captain, that once again Humanity is one step ahead of us," she said and Jon thought he heard an undercurrent of approval in her voice. "While we are still trying to agree on basic terms of a Coalition, Starfleet has already three races in its service and it is logical to assume that it will be four at some point."

Jon's grin widened.

"Why do I think, you didn't just guess that? We're building a whole lot of ships and we cannot keep up recruiting enough people, especially helmsmen. The Tellarites have several helmsmen waiting for a good posting, so some of them might be Earth-bound."

Taking the clue on ship building, T'Pau continued.

"When you return to Earth, please forward to Admiral Gardner our offer that Starfleet may make use of two or three space-docks at the T'Kuth shipyards as a sign of our gratitude."

Jon thought he might just as well look like Phlox now, as his grin grew wider still.

"You find this amusing, Captain?"

"Sort of, Minister," he admitted. "I just came to realize that three of our ships are built in the solar system, two in a shipyard near Tellar, two at Azati Prime in Xindi space and now Vulcan offers help as well. So, while the politicians still bicker over details, we're practicing the Coalition out here all the time already."

"Indeed," T'Pau answered with a raised eyebrow.

While Jon was still shaking his head in amused disbelief, T'Pau presented another point of discussion.