Chapter 8: A Risky Decision

Every fiber of his body screamed at him to stop what he was doing, but Malcolm knew it would serve neither him nor T'Pol. She had wanted this for so long and so had he. His first instinct had told him that he had hurt her, when silent tears had started to run down T'Pol's face despite his best efforts to be gentle, but he soon came to realize that his finesse or a possible lack thereof wasn't the real reason for T'Pol's reaction.

No matter how much they had wanted this, and had wanted it from and with each other, her thoughts almost certainly had gone back to Trip and the fact that he was unable to do what they were doing. Still gently sliding in and out of T'Pol's incredibly tight rear-end he whispered soothing words in her ear. To give her some privacy in light of her lapse of emotional control, he had rolled her over to lie flat on her front and was on top of her. T'Pol was moaning with pleasure, despite her distress and Malcolm tried to make it as good an experience as he could.

"Malcolm ... I need ... more physical," she struggled through clenched teeth and he started to increase his tempo, slamming into her with as much force as his deteriorated fitness allowed. With a scowl he looked at the spare tire around his hips and made a mental note to get over his blasted inhibitions and make the visit to the swimming pool a daily routine. He needed to get back to his old healthy self.

T'Pol was crying out in ecstasy as he pummeled her bum so hard their connected bodies were jumping slightly on every down-stroke. He was breathing hard and sweat was dripping off his forehead onto T'Pol's back, when the Vulcan screamed his name in the throes of a violent orgasm. After a few more brutal thrusts, he emptied himself into her bowels.

He slipped out of her tight passage and came to lie next to her. He grabbed the wet cloth from the bedside cabinet and cleaned his still semi-erect organ. T'Pol had obviously done a colon cleansing, but he was obsessed with hygiene and so was she.

"Thank you, Malcolm," T'Pol said breathlessly and rested her head on his chest.

"Love, I think we need to talk," he said. "You've spent a lot of time bashing some sense into my head, but at the same time you seem to neglect yourself. Hoshi has told me that tears have not been a rare occurrence with you lately, and even I know that's not normal for a Vulcan. You must meditate more. You've said yourself that Trip needs all of us."

He felt her nod against his chest.

Reed Industrial, medical facility, May 2nd 2158

Phlox looked over his shoulder, seeing Mr. Tucker's wheelchair arrive. It was surprising how well he managed to navigate the large facility with the technical help provided. It was no longer necessary for anyone to bring him here, although sometimes Hoshi or Mr. Reed sometimes still did so. In fact it had been Mr. Reed most of the time, which worried him a bit. It appeared as if the women had withdrawn to a degree.

"You came alone today?" the Denobulan asked.

"Yeah, Hoshi has a meeting with Starfleet over her work on the UT and T'Pol and Malcolm have spent the night in Costa Calma. Guess they aren't quite done with each other yet. Took them long enough. It's good to see them take their time now that the bloody elephant is finally out of the room."

"You are remarkably calm about these new circumstances. Considering how unsettled you reacted to the advances of my wife several years ago, I must admit to some surprise," the Denobulan said, starting to apply the cooling gel to his patient's forehead that would prevent too much additional discomfort during the telepathic therapy.

"What can I say, doc? We've had it coming. After my PTSD breakdown I spent more time with Hoshi than T'Pol and the same was true for her and Malcolm. I guess I knew it back then already that this is where we were heading. But if it isn't too much to ask, how do you Denobulans make it work properly?"

"What are you referring to, Mr. Tucker?"

"Well, I've had sex with T'Pol and Hoshi, or what passes for sex with my broken carcass. Now that Malcolm and T'Pol have taken the sticks out of their asses, he's been with both of them, too. But humans and Vulcans are not originally designed for poly-amorous relationships. So how do you avoid things like jealousy?"

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that, Mr. Tucker," Phlox answered. "Jealousy as an emotion is almost unknown on Denobula, mostly because our marriages are not based on amorous exclusivity. Considering the difficulties Mr. Reed had to accept this lifestyle in the first place, I can guarantee you that this would not work for the four of you. I can only give you two pieces of advice. The first one is – honesty. It is imperative that nothing happens behind the back of someone else. And the second advice is: Don't try to emulate someone else. Your union is unique and you will have to shape and define it yourself."

"Guess that means we're not really like an Andorian Quad?" Trip wondered.

"The only similarity with most Andorian Quads is the number of mates. Andorian Quads are essentially marriages of two pairs, who mainly keep to themselves. They only ever have intimate contact with each other when the topic of offspring comes up and all four parts of the genome are needed."

"Thanks for talking," the head of Malcolm's 'skunk-works' department said after a while. "By the way Phlox, I have a question about my therapy."

"What would that be Mr. Tucker?"

"I still recall a lot of what you explained to T'Pol and Malcolm about my therapy. Malcolm compares the genetic number Soong has done on me to a Salamander that can grow its tail back when it's been severed. Now, I don't have any missing bits, but let's be honest, we've done the therapy for two months now and neither my legs nor the other part of me has shown any significant improvement. So I was thinking; a Salamander doesn't grow a new tail until it's actually off, you know."

"You are considering an amputation?" Phlox asked in disbelief.

"Not that," his patient replied. "But as far as I understand the modification, it gives my body the option to regenerate damaged or missing cells, but it cannot modify half-way healthy cells that are still there. So what if we sever some of the remaining neural connections to my legs and you-know-what, letting my body regrow them to the original specs."

Phlox gasped. This was an idea he hadn't even considered due to the associated risks. "How did you come to that idea, Mr. Tucker?"

His patient shrugged. "I'm an engineer, Phlox. Even if a part does still work, if it doesn't work properly anymore, I'm putting a new one in. I may try to install a make-shift solution, like you did with the transplanted neural tissue, but as soon as I have the time I take it out again and put the engine back to original specs with new spares. And if I have anything, it's time."

"Perhaps I should take engineering lessons, Mr. Tucker," Phlox said with amusement, but also with honest admiration for the man's ingenuity. "There is of course some risk attached to your idea."

"Let's just jump to the worst case scenario," his visitor said boldly.

"We could undo some of the repairs we did with the transplantation of neural tissue. You could lose control over your digestive tract and your bladder for instance."

"That all?"

"I would say that's quite a risk, Mr. Tucker," the Denobulan reminded him. There was no answer and the doctor suspected something was up. "There is something you're not telling me Mr. Tucker, isn't there?"

"I've been putting a brave face to things for a long time," the engineer said. "But it's starting to sink in that I'm not really making progress. As stupid as it sounds, but the missing sex is a big problem. First of all, even with my limited methods the mood is killed quite quickly because the women have to help me reposition because I can't really move much. And let's face it, the main activities are impossible for me. Sooner or later they'll seek Malcolm's help more and more and that will eventually lead to this whole relationship blowing up. I will become a chore rather than a desire."

"I'm not sure I have an answer to that, Mr. Tucker, other than it was overdue that you would give up your seeming indifference to your condition."

"I've never been indifferent, Phlox, but realistic about it, as I am now. The way I see it is that we need a success, a big one, and for that I'm prepared to take a big risk. What would happen if I can't control my bowels and bladder anymore. I'd be admitted to a disability home. That's where I'm headed anyway if my current condition persists. T'Pol and Hoshi have still over one-hundred years to live. No matter how much they love me, they will either drift apart from me or I will start ruining their lives. That's the reality of it."

"I could argue with you, Mr. Tucker, but unfortunately you are probably right to a degree, even if your assessment is unnecessarily pessimistic," Phlox admitted uneasily. "I will perform the surgery tomorrow."

Romulan Capitol

The Praetor closed his eyes, frustrated with the situation, despite the latest, mildly hopeful news. How could it have gone so wrong? The Empire had never been defeated like that. All attempts at keeping the defection of Turius and Tavrus a secret had failed and the military was in turmoil. Of course most had worked out that this Coalition had not found the main shipyards by chance.

The two remaining facilities in the Delta Hydri and Haakona systems could barely complete two ships in three months. The Klingons destroyed three times as many in that time. Research and design of new ships had all but seized as even the scientists were needed to replenish lost troops on the front-line. The new Fleet Commander, Admiral Rolax had celebrated first victories, recapturing the Lambda Hydrae and Zeta Pictoris systems, but it had come at a substantial loss of life and ships on both sides.

There was no other chance. They had stationed the forty most experienced crews near the border to the Coalition, but considering their enemy's fortunate unwillingness to attack, he had to run the risk and completely expose that flank to bolster the forces on the Klingon front. Those forty ships could make the difference. Not that he had any other chance. He had run out of people to execute and could not afford any more failures – the Senate was unpredictable enough as it was and he could soon find himself to be a former Praetor.

"Give me the Fleet Commander," D'deridex ordered into the intercom system.

"He must be crazy," Hoshi fumed, walking back and forth in the hospital corridor. "We try to make his life as good and easy as possible and what does he do? He risks it all in yet another surgery. T'Pol, say something!"

The Vulcan however seemed to be indifferent. Malcolm knew that he was apparently not the best person to make that speech, but T'Pol's control seemed still too brittle, despite her recently increased efforts at meditation.

"Come with me dears," Malcolm said sternly and both of them followed him into Trip's room, which was of course empty with their partner being in the operating theater.

"You don't understand it, Hoshi, do you?" he growled, stunning her into silence. She looked at him in confusion.

"The problem is easy. You've done everything you could to give him every autonomy, as have I done in the factory. Now that he can navigate the way to the medical facility on his own, how often has someone taken the time to wheel him down there and stay with him to hold his hand while the poor bloke suffers like a dog all the way through his therapy?"

"But, but... ," Hoshi stammered but no words came to her.

"T'Pol can't, she's on duty during the day, but the two of us?" Malcolm challenged her. "We've done what we could and then considered it a job well done. And once T'Pol and I finally had sex a few weeks ago, we all thought all's fine and dandy, but it isn't. How often has anyone of you been with Trip lately? I've been in Costa Calma every second day because one of you needed a bit of attention. Trip is blind, he's not stupid, he noticed how you've been more distant from him lately, especially you T'Pol. When did you and Trip play a game of cards the last time, Hoshi?"

Malcolm knew he had hit them where it hurts.

"It's not my fault," she wailed and started crying. "It was fun at first, but at some point I grew tired of him not being able to finish the job properly once he got me all hot and bothered. I've told you this would happen," she added with a reproachful look at T'Pol.

"Stop the blame game," Malcolm said. "But now you know why Trip takes that risk. He has spoken to me last night and this talk was to happen later today anyway, but I reckon now is as good a time as any. This surgery has two possible outcomes. Trip will be able to shag the two of you silly within a few weeks or he will end up even worse. For the latter case he has already pre-arranged to be admitted to a disability home near his parents' place, and you know that this would be the end of our relationship as we've come know it."

Now even T'Pol was looking at him in naked shock.

"That's what happened. His worst worries became a reality. Nobody blames the two of you. Living with a disabled partner isn't easy and we would hardly be the first people who fail at it or break down over the burden. But perhaps now would be a good time to stop being pissy or pitying ourselves and think how we can help him."

With that, Malcolm pivoted and walked out, leaving the two women behind to collect their thoughts. Hoshi's first instinct had been to call Malcolm out for his own prolonged inability to deal with Trip's condition, but the more she reflected on what she'd just heard the more she realized that she and T'Pol were heading into the same dead-end that Malcolm had already been stuck in. When T'Pol gathered her in her arms, she started crying again, feeling ashamed for the truth in Malcolm's words.

"This is pure genius," Yuichi Sato said. "We should send that to Earth immediately."

"Agreed," Lorian said. "Commodore Archer will be most pleased."

"What does the commodore have to do with an idea for healing Captain Tucker?" the science officer asked back.

"We have been given access to all scientific data of the Icaaran society, Lieutenant. Do you really think we would have been granted such a rare privilege without the fact that it was humanity, who destroyed the network of spheres? The Icaaran system would have been one of the first to be made uninhabitable by the transformation of space."

"I'll miss Karyn," Hoshi's unlikely descendant admitted.

"So will I," Lorian admitted. "But it was bound to happen that some of our original crew rethink their decision to join Starfleet. Karyn has spent all her life running from the Kovalaans and she was thrust right back into another devastating war. In this time-line her great grandmother Esilia, the woman she has been admiring for so many years, is still alive. As much as grieve about saying farewell to another member of our original crew, she is at least alive and has finally found peace and a place where she belongs."