Star Trek(8)
He underlined his position by kissing her, drawing her into his embrace. She found it agreeable to indulge his professed philosophy for now. It had been too long since they had been together in the flesh. Her ability to sublimate her emotional responses was limited at the best of times, but her feelings for Trip strained her Vulcan disciplines to the breaking point. Her need for release was not nearly as intense as the compulsion of pon farr, but it was close enough.
Once they were sated, they showered together briefly, after which she stepped into the air-drying tube. “Hey, why not stay here a while longer?” Trip invited.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sensation of the powerful air flow against her skin. The laminar current was quiet enough that she could speak normally. “You know that Vulcans do not thrive in conditions of high humidity.”
“Come on, live a little. It’ll be fun.”
She opened one eye to give him a sidelong glance. “More of your ‘live in the moment’ philosophy? Enjoy the here and now, even if it harms you in the long term?”
“I guess so.”
“Is it not more logical to attempt to optimize all future moments, rather than simply the current one?”
He shut off the shower and came to join her in the air tube. “So what are you suggesting? Where do you plan for this to go? We can’t exactly have a close relationship as long as you’re a starship captain.”
“You could reveal yourself. Resume your Starfleet commission.” He winced. “I know you feel you have changed too much, compromised too much. I know you are reluctant to face your former friends.”
“You’ve been talkin’ to Jonathan.”
“I’ve been sharing minds with you,” she riposted.
“All the more reason you should understand why I can’t come back.” He fidgeted. “Top o’ everything else . . . if I did come back to Starfleet, explained what I’ve been doin’ all these years, I’d serve out my whole tour on a penal asteroid.”
T’Pol had to concede he had a point. The agency he worked for had ambiguous legal authority at best, relying on a certain interpretation of the imprecise wording of Section 31 of the Earth Starfleet charter—a section that, perhaps suspiciously, had been copied without alteration into the Federation Starfleet charter upon the merger of the founder worlds’ space services. Officially, their actions were performed without the knowledge or sanction of Starfleet Command, and thus they had no legal protection if their actions were exposed.
She sighed, stepping out of the tube and turning to face him. “So this is all we can have? The status quo?”
He came out to join her, meeting her eyes. “Can you live with that?”
“That remains to be seen.”
Recognizing that they were at an impasse, they let the subject drop, helping each other into light robes before leaving the ’fresher. Trip tried to steer the conversation onto a new topic once she had reached the bedroom and begun brushing her shoulder-length hair. “So how soon before you and Jonathan ship out to Rigel?”
She quirked a brow. “You are aware of Endeavour’s itinerary?”
“I keep current.”
“We leave in two days,” she said. “Are you available for the duration?”
“Far as I know.” He stepped closer. “By the way, we’ve been pickin’ up some chatter from those parts. The Malurians have put out some feelers to the First Families on Rigel IV. We’re concerned they might want to sabotage the Federation talks.”
“That is neither anomalous nor surprising. The Malurian crime syndicate has had dealings in Rigelian space for decades.”
“All the more reason they’d want to try to screw up this agreement. T’Pol, you remember what a mess Garos caused last time. He shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
She turned to him. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I simply question why this is any business of your section.”
He sighed. “I know, I know. I get it enough from you and Jonathan both: the section’s about dealin’ with extraordinary threats, so why butt into everyday Starfleet problems?”
“Exactly. The Federation’s safety is our responsibility. Your ‘Section Thirty-one’ is an adjunct at best. Yet sometimes it seems as if you perceive that relationship in reverse.”
“It’s not that,” he said, stepping closer. “It’s just . . . I worry about you, T’Pol. I want to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re safe.”
She put down the hairbrush and rose, staring at him. “You believe that makes it better? Trip, I am the captain of a Starfleet flagship. I am not a damsel in distress from one of your antiquated movies.”