Convicted

Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  Paramount owns Star Trek names, and related intellectual property.

Summary:  The Romulan War enters its fourth year.  T'Pol is tried in an Andorian court while Trip assumes command of Chosin.  Fourth in a series (order of stories: 'Commissioning', 'Liaison', 'Command', then 'Convicted').

ONE

Starbase Seven, Lalande III, 8 Mar 2159

"I haven't had breakfast yet," Doctor Emerson said, fixing the young Starfleet Lieutenant with his most intimidating glare.  It was a look once guaranteed to strike terror into the hearts of his students, back in the days when he was Chairman of Rutgers' College of Xeno-anthropology.

Rather than wilting under the fierce scowl, Lieutenant Rasmussen just shrugged.  "The mess deck's been serving for two hours, sir."

"I was sleeping," Doctor Emerson grumbled. "On a too-hard mattress on a too-narrow bunk in a too-small, too-cold room.  And then you come along and wake me for a too-early meeting.  I'm not even afforded the opportunity for breakfast.  It's inhuman."

"Sorry, sir.  Admiral Gardner's orders."  Lieutenant Rasmussen seemed anything but sorry, and Doctor Emerson's irritation deepened.

It was his own damn fault, really.  He should have stayed at Rutgers, where he was a recognized authority on Andorian culture, instead of taking a position as a mid-level official within the Foreign Ministry's Andorian Bureau.  The opportunity to collect civil service pay on top of his generous University pension had been a little too attractive, and now he was paying the price for his greed.

It was supposed to have been a routine government job:  Attend a few meetings, write a few position papers, review proposed treaties from a cultural perspective.  Then the war came, and everything changed.  Gone were the easy hours and the casual environment.  The protocols and agreements required for Andoria to effectively fight alongside Human, Vulcan, and Tellarite military forces did not exist, and had to be quickly and laboriously negotiated.  Suddenly the quality and timeliness of his work actually mattered.

He didn't like the pressure.  Not at all.

"Here we are, sir," Rasmussen said, ushering him into a conference room.  Like everything else on Starbase Seven, the room was rough and unfinished.  The table appeared to be a slab of hull plating welded to four I-beams.  The chairs were the stackable variety, made of cheap plastic in a style that would not have been out of place on a patio or around a swimming pool.  They also looked intensely uncomfortable.

But then, what else was new?  There was certainly nothing comfortable about the Vulcan courier vessel that had brought him and the other members of Admiral Gardner's contingent the ten light years from Earth to Lalande III.  And he was most assuredly NOT comfortable about being in a star system where a Romulan attack was imminent.

Admiral Gardner was already in the room, speaking in hushed tones with a Starfleet Captain that Emerson did not recognize.  Emerson took a quick look around and determined he was the last of the seven-man contingent from Earth to arrive in the conference room.  As near as he could tell, the only person still missing was Commander T'Pol, the subject of the meeting.

If there were a positive side to his situation, it was the stories he would be able to tell his former colleagues back at Rutgers; stories of meeting Chosin's famous Captain.  There was no denying Commander T'Pol's popularity with the public at large--for the first two years of the war, Chosin's successes were one of the few bright spots in an otherwise dismal picture.  Emerson, a natural cynic, had long believed the reports to be exaggerations, embellished by Starfleet in order to improve public morale.

He had only recently been forced to revise that belief.  In preparation for today's meeting he'd been given a long list of documents to review, most of them classified.  The stories of Chosin's exploits in the popular press paled by comparison to the actual details given in the classified reports.

In fact, many of those documents had chilled him to the bone.  He had known in a vague way that the Romulans were a serious threat, but not until reading the classified action reports had he realized just how close the Coalition had come to complete collapse and total defeat.  On more than one occasion.

Difficult as it was to believe, it appeared to Emerson that T'Pol might have actually earned every accolade the press had heaped upon her.

Emerson had just settled into his chair for what he anticipated would be a long and boring meeting when Commander T'Pol entered the room with Commander Tucker at her side.  He recognized them both immediately, of course, and watched with great interest as they crossed the room to exchange a few quiet words with Admiral Gardner.  Commander T'Pol was physically smaller than his mental image had led him to expect, but she still had a commanding presence about her.

She was also rather pretty, in a subdued sort of way.  Not his type, though he could see how Commander Tucker might be attracted to her.  Unlike many of his fellow humans, Emerson was open-minded regarding interspecies relationships, although the point of a sexual relationship with a coldly logical Vulcan escaped him.  A hot-blooded Andorian female, now... that would be something.  Something exciting.  Exotic.  He had often fantasized about such a coupling...

Lieutenant Rasmussen's voice brought him back to the present.  "If everyone would please be seated, we're ready to get started."

Commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker took seats across from Emerson, and he was struck by the differences in their expressions.  Commander T'Pol appeared completely calm and collected, while her husband was positively grim.  But who could blame him?  His wife was under threat of deportation to Andoria, to face trial for her recent actions in the Teneebian sector.  It had to be terribly upsetting.

Admiral Gardner waited until everyone was settled around the table, then gave his aide a nod.  "Lieutenant Rasmussen, why don't you handle the introductions?"

"Yes sir."  Rasmussen turned and addressed the entire table, speaking loudly enough for all to hear.  He introduced himself first, "I'm Lieutenant Colton Rasmussen, Admiral Gardner's aide-de-camp," then he went around the table naming everyone in turn, starting with the Admiral:  "Starfleet Commandant, Admiral Gardner.  Starfleet Assistant JAG for Criminal Law, Captain Carl Langley.  Commanding Officer of Starbase Seven, Captain Jennifer Rocha.  Undersecretary to the Minister of Justice, Marilyn Vaughan.  Director of Internal Affairs for the Ministry of Space, Jeremy Stark.  Chief Analyst for the Andorian Bureau of the Foreign Ministry, Doctor Reuben Emerson."  Emerson gave a slight nod as his name and title were announced.

Rasmussen continued, "Staff Legal Assistant for the Vulcan Embassy on Earth, Subcommander Kolna.  And I'm sure everyone here knows Commander T'Pol, Captain of USS Chosin, and Commander Tucker, Chosin's Chief Engineer."

Emerson was amused to see Commander Tucker's eyes widening at the number of high-level functionaries in the room.  "There's a lot of horsepower here," Tucker remarked, after the introductions were complete.

"Damn right," Gardner agreed.  "I asked for the best.  Now let's get to work."

He leaned forward, arms on the table, and glanced around the room before speaking.  "The President has asked me for my recommendation on how to respond to the extradition request.  I've brought you all here to help me evaluate different courses of action and select the best one.  I'd like to start by discussing the merits of this request.  Do we have grounds to refuse extradition under international law or the terms of our treaties?"

Tucker looked like he was going to speak, but stopped at a glance from T'Pol.

Undersecretary Vaughan actually did speak.  "I would like to hear exactly what crimes the Andorians are alleging Commander T'Pol has committed," she said.

"Yeah, I'd kind of like to hear that myself," Tucker added, scowling.

Captain Langley, the Assistant JAG, answered.  "They claim that Commander T'Pol is complicit in the murder of thirty-four Andorian civilians, in that she deliberately disregarded orders to safeguard the Andorian freighter Ketalan.  They claim that the destruction of Ketalan and the deaths of her crew were a direct consequence of her hatred for Andorians."

"So she is being charged with failure to obey a lawful order, and with... with what?  Manslaughter?" Undersecretary Vaughan asked.

Captain Langley shook his head.  "No ma'am.  They do not allege Commander T'Pol was negligent.  They are alleging criminal intent--that she knowingly acted to cause the deaths of Ketalan's crew.  The charge is murder."

"That is the most ridiculous--" Tucker began with vehemence.  He immediately subsided when T'Pol placed a hand on his arm.  Her expression never once lost its calm placidity.

The Undersecretary ignored Tucker's outburst and asked another question, "Just murder?  No degree?  And what punishment does she face?"

"Andorian law recognizes various flavors of murder, depending on who is killed and how, so that isn't a simple question to answer.  The precise charges are not listed in the extradition request but they had to tell us the maximum penalties; it's in the extradition treaty.  Commander T'Pol could receive up to life in prison, but she faces no capital charges."

"The incident took place in international space," Undersecretary Vaughan pointed out.  "Perhaps we can claim Andoria has no jurisdiction?"

Langley shook his head.  "Ketalan was operating under an Andorian flag, which gives Andorian law jurisdiction over anything that happens on or to the ship.  Also, our Status of Forces Agreement with Andoria provides for legal redress of crimes committed against Andorian interests by United Earth forces, and vice versa.  They clearly have jurisdiction."

"Captain Langley, I don't need all the reasons why the Andorians can extradite Commander T'Pol.  I need one good reason why they can't," Admiral Gardner said.

"Sorry, Admiral.  There are no sufficient legal grounds to deny extradition."

"How about on the grounds that no crime was committed?" Tucker snarled.  "I know for a fact T'Pol had no criminal intent, and she sure as hell doesn't hate Andorians!  She did what she had to do to defeat four Foxtrot-class warbirds.  Four!  We were outnumbered and outgunned and didn't have a lot of options.  The fact that we weren't destroyed along with Ketalan is a tribute to her skill.  For Chancellor Shalin to come along after the fact with these wild accusations is disgusting."

Gardner looked at Langley.  "How about it, JAG?  If we demonstrate lack of intent, can we shoot down the murder charge?"

Captain Langley shook his head.  "There's still the failure to obey a lawful order.  Even without criminal intent, the Chancellor could continue pushing for extradition."

Director Stark from the Ministry of Space cleared his throat.  "Correct me if I'm wrong--I never served in Starfleet, or any other branch of the armed forces--but it seems to me that failure to obey an order is an internal matter between Commander T'Pol and Starfleet headquarters."

"You are correct, sir.  I should have been more precise.  The Andorians are not charging Commander T'Pol directly with failure to obey.  They will use it to show criminal intent.  Or, at the very least, gross negligence."

Director Stark rubbed the back of his neck as he considered his next question.  "I need to know why this particular order was disobeyed, and what Starfleet intends to do about it."  He gave Commander T'Pol a questioning look.  "Commander, what were your orders?"

"I was directed by Commander, Second Fleet to take Chosin into the Teneebian sector.  Once there, I was to rendezvous with USS Galloway and the freighter Ketalan, escort Ketalan to Teneebia, then find and destroy two Romulan warships that had been detected entering the sector."  It was the first time Commander T'Pol had spoken, and Emerson was struck by the quality of her voice.  Low and throaty, with a precise and measured cadence.  Very pleasant on the ear, actually.

"Two?  I thought there were four warships," Director Stark said.

"At the time, we believed there were only two," T'Pol said.  "Had he known otherwise, I am sure Admiral Chu would have sent more ships."

"And why did you choose to disregard your orders?"  At Director Stark's question, Tucker shifted in his seat, but held his tongue.  Again.  Emerson could only wonder how long his restraint would hold.

"The Romulans were waiting near the rendezvous point," T'Pol answered.  "They launched simultaneous attacks on Ketalan and Galloway.  I could only go to the aid of one vessel, and I reasoned that a warship with an experienced crew was more vital to the war effort than a small civilian freighter.  I went to Galloway's aid."

"I see.  Did you make any attempt to advise Starfleet of your decision?"

Tucker rolled his eyes, clearly disgusted by the question.  "She couldn't, sir.  The Rommies destroy our subspace relays almost as fast as we can lay them.  There are currently NO relays in the Teneebian sector.  We were on our own."

T'Pol expanded on Tucker's explanation, "There was no way I could request guidance from higher headquarters.  I had to make a choice, and I chose to save Galloway.  It was a... difficult decision for me."

"I'm sure it was," Director Stark said smoothly.  "Tell me, Commander.  If it had been a Vulcan freighter, what would you have done?"

"The same."  Her tone was even, her face impassive, but it seemed to Emerson that there was a dangerous glint in her eyes.

"And when did you finally realize that you had made a mistake?" Director Stark asked.

Instead of answering, T'Pol looked at Admiral Gardner.  "Admiral, if I had been able to inform you of the situation, what would your orders have been?"

Gardner did not hesitate.  "I would have ordered you to Galloway's aid."

T'Pol was silent for a long moment, then she nodded.  "Thank you, Admiral."  She turned back to Director Stark.  "The answer to your question, Director, is 'never'.  My decision was tactically sound and logically based.  It has also been validated by my chain of command."

Director Stark's next question was for Admiral Gardner.  "So Starfleet has no issues with Commander T'Pol's conduct during this mission?"

"No, Director," Gardner replied.  "It is Starfleet's position that Commander T'Pol's performance was exemplary in all respects.  Once again--as she has done many times before--she engaged and defeated a numerically superior Romulan force.  It is Starfleet's position that the Andorian Chancellor's charges are baseless and without merit.  It is Starfleet's position that their request for extradition should be summarily rejected.  Unfortunately, it is not my decision to make.  I can only provide a recommendation to the President.  He will decide."  He paused to collect his thoughts before continuing, "So I need a recommendation, and I need good, solid reasons supporting it."

Director Stark gave Admiral Gardner a disbelieving look.  "There can only be one recommendation.  We must preserve the coalition.  It would be an unmitigated disaster for Andoria to withdraw military support from the war effort.  We cannot allow that to happen.  Commander T'Pol must stand trial."

Emerson watched with fascination as Tucker's hands balled into fists.  He was clearly using every ounce of self-control he possessed to keep himself from surging across the table and pummeling the Director of Internal Affairs into a bloody pulp.  And I thought this meeting was going to be boring.

Admiral Gardner was also not amused.  "I cannot believe you are so willing to succumb to blackmail," he said to Director Stark, "Chancellor Shalin's prejudices regarding Vulcans are well known.  His reasons for bringing these trumped-up charges are quite transparent."

"And I cannot believe you are so willing to defend Commander T'Pol's reckless disregard for civilian lives," Stark shot back.  "Starfleet is supposed to be protecting us.  She threw a civilian freighter to the wolves in order to save a comrade.  Thirty-seven lives were lost as a direct result of her actions.  Civilian lives.  She must be held accountable."

The room went deathly quiet.  Emerson glanced at Tucker and was surprised to see his eyes closed, a relaxed expression on his face.  Commander T'Pol was equally composed, her gaze turned toward her human husband.  He had expected a more visceral reaction from them in the face of Stark's attack.  Some of T'Pol's Vulcan reserve seems to have rubbed off on him, Emerson mused.

Admiral Gardner broke the strained silence.  "Commander T'Pol is being held accountable, Director.  As soon as Chosin and Galloway were in comm range, all pertinent logs and data files were transmitted to Starfleet.  My staff has examined them in detail and passed their recommendations on to me.  I have personally read both Commander T'Pol's and Commander Mancusa's after-action reports.  As a result of my review, I am taking certain measures directed at Commander T'Pol and Chosin."

"And what are those measures?" Stark asked.

Admiral Gardner favored Director Stark with an innocent smile.  "I am awarding Commander T'Pol the Star Cross with second palm, and Lieutenant Commander Mancusa the Star Cross.  I am awarding Chosin and Galloway the Starfleet Unit Citation.  That is Chosin's FIFTH such citation.  I have also approved all of Commander T'Pol and Commander Mancusa's award requests for their crew.  So you can see Commander T'Pol is indeed being held to account for her actions, and is receiving--in full measure--what she deserves."

"You have left me no choice," Stark said in a frigid tone.  "Since Starfleet condones her decision to allow civilians to die, I must advise the Minister of Space to overturn your actions and take more appropriate measures."

"Do what you will, Director.  We've already wasted too much time on this.  We need to get back to the issue at hand, namely the extradition requests."

"May I speak?"

All eyes turned to Commander Tucker as he waited patiently for an answer to his request.

"Yes," Admiral Gardner said.  "Please do."

Tucker nodded.  "You all know that Commander T'Pol is Vulcan and fully committed to the philosophy of Surak, but you may not understand what that means.  She has been raised to revere life.  Not just sentient life, but all life.  She will not eat meat, because to do so means a living creature had to die."  He glanced around the room, measuring the impact of his words.

"Under her command Chosin has destroyed forty-five Romulan warships.  We can't say how many Romulan deaths that represents, but it's probably in the thousands.  Each and every one of those ships weighs heavily on her soul.  I know.  I help her meditate to suppress the pain, and that's just for the enemy, for a race of beings whose appearance we don't even know.  Try to imagine the pain she feels when she loses one of her own.  One of her crew, who she's responsible for.  One she's trained and worked with on a daily basis.  Well, she's lost more than one.  She's lost twenty-nine.  Twenty-nine.  You can't begin to understand how much it hurts her.  How much... how much grief and heartache..."  There was a catch in his voice, and he paused to take a steadying breath.

"She knows them ALL.  She remembers them ALL.  She could tell you their names right now.  All twenty-nine.  You think Vulcans have no emotions?  They have them, and they're strong.  Stronger than ours.  They just don't display them.  They work very hard to keep them contained, but it's hard for them... It's hard for her.  But she stays on the job.  She goes back out every time, and kills more Romulans and loses more crew, and loses another piece of her soul, because it's her duty.  Because... because she knows someone else would have to do it if she didn't, and she wouldn't wish this job on her worst enemy.  She hates this job.  She loves her crew--loves them like family--but she hates the job.  She hates it because of the soul-destroying things she's forced to do.  Because of the life-and-death decisions--the impossible decisions--she has to make.  Most of you would crack under the strain.  You couldn't take the pressure.  Day in and day out for weeks at a time with no end in sight..."

Tucker was now looking directly at Director Stark as he spoke, fire in his eyes, voice tight with barely contained emotion, "There were fifty-one souls on Galloway that day, compared to thirty-seven on Ketalan.  She knew with certainty that all fifty-one on Galloway would die without our help.  We know from experience that Romulans take no prisoners and leave no combatants alive.  We did NOT know that Romulans have the same policy for non-combatants.  She made the best choice she could have made with the information available to her, and she felt the death of the Ketalan's crew like a dagger through her heart.  I'm talking pain--real, physical pain.  Don't you dare imply she deliberately allowed Ketalan's crew to die just to save her friends.  She would let ME die before she would dishonor herself like that.  Don't you dare accuse her of reckless disregard for civilian lives.  Don't you dare."

Tucker slumped back in his chair, as if physically spent.  The intensity drained from his face, replaced by a look of tired resignation.  "Anyway," he said, almost as if he were talking to himself, "I just thought you might want to know a little something about my wife before you ship her off to an Andorian prison."

A stunned silence fell over the room, and Emerson glanced at Commander T'Pol.  He was immediately captivated by the expression on her face as she gazed at her husband.  Her features had softened and her eyes seemed to gleam.

Emerson was fifty-seven, and a confirmed bachelor.  He had never been married and thought himself content to remain so.  He had never harbored the slightest desire for a permanent relationship with anyone.  But... but at that moment, he could not help but wonder what it would be like--what it would feel like--to have a woman look at him the way T'Pol was looking at Tucker.  To have that pride and tenderness and approval and acceptance, and... and things he wasn't even sure there were words for, directed at him.

Admiral Gardner finally spoke, releasing Emerson from the spell that had seized him.  "I want to be quite clear so there is no misunderstanding:  The sole purpose of this meeting is to find a way to keep Commander T'Pol out of an Andorian prison.  Now, the only thing stopping the President from telling Chancellor Shalin to pound sand is his threat to withdraw Andorian military support.  Is this an actual threat?  Is he bluffing, or would he really do it?  Doctor Emerson, you're an authority on Andorian politics.  What is your opinion?"

"Umm... yes... ah..." Gardner's question caught Emerson unprepared, and he stammered to buy some time while collecting his thoughts.  "Yes.  Well, I can't say whether Shalin is bluffing, but I can say with certainty that it would be political suicide for him to take such an action.  Chancellor Shalin's intense dislike for all things Vulcan is well documented, as are the reasons for it.  He's lost several close family members to the Vulcans, and he's used that to help define his political persona."

He had the whole rooms undivided attention now, and he basked in the limelight while he continued his analysis, "Three years ago, extreme anti-Vulcan prejudice was a political asset and he was easily elected to the Chancellorship.  Since the war, things have changed.  Andorians and Vulcans are fighting and dying side-by-side against a common enemy.  Many Andorians believe--for the first time--that the long conflict with Vulcan can finally be resolved.  What was once an asset has become a liability, and a majority in Parliament openly support the Coalition of Planets and the war.  If Shalin makes good on his threat and orders the Imperial Guard to stand down, Parliament will most certainly remove him from office.  His successor's first act will be to resume support of the war."

"So you believe he is bluffing?" Gardner asked.

"Yes, Admiral.  I do.  Shalin has worked very hard to get where he is.  He will not throw it away on a personal vendetta."

"I do not concur."  The voice of dissent belonged to Subcommander Kolna, the Vulcan Legal Assistant.  Emerson frowned at the contradiction.

"Please explain," Gardner said.

"Certainly.  Vulcan has had dealings with Chancellor Shalin many times in the past.  His hatred of Vulcans is virulent and unreasoning.  It is the opinion of the Vulcan Embassy that he would stop at nothing to avenge the death of his son."

"You really think Shalin would throw away his Chancellorship, undermine Andoria's influence in the Coalition, and risk military defeat at the hands of the Romulans just to satisfy a personal vendetta?" Gardner could scarcely believe what he was hearing.

"I do." Kolna affirmed.

"I find that very difficult to believe."

"Perhaps that is because you do not possess Vulcan's experience with Andorian intransigence."

"Or perhaps your conclusion is influenced by some prejudice of your own?" Gardner suggested.

"Vulcans do not have prejudices."

Emerson settled back in his chair.  This was obviously going to be a VERY long meeting.

Enterprise, en-route to Eta Corvi, 8 Mar 2159

Hoshi smiled as she scrolled down the page of insectoid text.  Xindi insectoid was one of the most difficult alphabets she had ever encountered.  Based on a complex system of contextual rules and modifying symbols, each character could represent an entire phrase or a single phonetic sound.  The good news was she seemed to have mastered their system.  The bad news?  Insectoid literature was appallingly bad.  This particular work--by one of the insectoids most renowned authors--was an interminable ode to the egg.

She felt a little guilty at indulging her linguistic hobby when so much ship's business remained on her plate, but she reasoned it was important to exercise her talents.  The war would not last forever, and someday (IF she survived) she would be able to resume her life's work.  She might even remain in Starfleet, although that would require careful consideration.  In the eight years since Captain Archer had talked her onto Enterprise, four of them--fully HALF--had been at a state of war.

"Come in," Hoshi called at the sound of the door chime.  A pleased smile spread across her face when Malcolm entered her room.

"You've got to hear this, Malcolm," she said, taking the opportunity to show-off her talents.  "This is what passes for great literature in insectoid circles:  Behold, the egg is round.  Round as a sphere.  Round as the fruit of the tree.  Remain round, oh egg.  Your roundness touches our minds and brings us to..." her voice trailed off as she noticed Malcolm's grim expression.

"Malcolm?"

Wordlessly, he extended a pad.  She took it, gripped by a feeling of dread.  "Oh, no." she said, as she read through the message.  "No.  Not this..."

She looked up from the pad, her eyes full of pain.  Malcolm had seated himself on her bunk, avoiding her gaze.

"The message just came in," he said.  "Jon's informing the Admiral now."

"They can't do this.  They won't.  Starfleet would never allow T'Pol to be extradited to Andoria... would they?"

Malcolm laughed, but there was no mirth in it.  "It's not up to Starfleet.  The decision will be made by politicians back on Earth."

Hoshi blanched.  She well knew how self-righteous, self-serving, and thoughtless most politicians could be.  Even on those rare occasions when they did something right, it was usually by accident.  "Is there anything we can do?"

Malcolm shook his head.  "Admiral Gardner is preparing Starfleet's recommendation for the President.  After that, we can only wait."

"It's not fair," Hoshi said bitterly, "After all they've been through, and now this.  It's like the universe is conspiring against them."

"It does seem that way, sometimes," Malcolm said.

"Thank you for letting me know."

Malcolm nodded, subdued.  She had the distinct impression that something else was on his mind.  Should I prompt him? she wondered.  She decided to wait.

Malcolm fidgeted for a few more moments.  "I've been a coward, Hoshi," he finally said.

"Malcolm, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about us."

Oh!  Hoshi's heart skipped several beats.

"Us, Hoshi and Malcolm?" she asked, after she had recovered her equilibrium, "or us, First Officer and Ops Officer?"

"Us,  Hoshi and Malcolm," he answered, destroying her equilibrium all over again.  "For eight years, I've kept my distance from you.  I told myself it was a matter of propriety.  Starfleet regulations.  Fraternization policies.  I was deceiving myself."

"The truth is," he said, "It was out of fear.  I was afraid of being hurt if I let myself care too much.  I was a craven, miserable coward!   But no more.  I'm not running from the woman I love because I'm afraid of a little pain.  When I look at everything Trip and T'Pol have been through--are going through at this exact moment--it makes me ashamed.  If I asked them if it was worth all that pain to be together, we both know how they would answer.  Well, I want what they have.  I want that kind of relationship.  With you.  With you.  For the rest of our lives, God willing, but if it's only for a day, I'll take it.  I'll take whatever the universe lets us have together."

Hoshi, the consummate linguist, was struck dumb by Malcolm's frank admission.  She could only watch with gleaming eyes as he got up from the bed and knelt beside her at the desk, taking one hand in both of his.  "Hoshi, I want to marry you.  I don't care about Starfleet, or regulations, or my career.  None of that matters anymore.  I care about you.  About us."

Yes yes yes, she wanted to say, but the words couldn't get past the huge lump in her throat.  She did the next best thing, and launched herself at the man she loved, tears streaming from her eyes as she felt his strong arms surrounding her.

Starbase Seven, Lalande III, 8 Mar 2159

As the meeting dragged on, it became harder for Emerson to ignore the fact that he hadn't had breakfast.  The more his stomach rumbled, the less attention he paid to the proceedings.  Not that his input was needed anymore, he had already contributed to the meeting, and was pleased that his views had become the consensus of the group.  Despite Kolna's insistence, there was little likelihood that Chancellor Shalin would actually follow through on his threat.  What politician had ever voluntarily relinquished power?

Still, Gardner had insisted on analyzing the worst case scenario of Andoria withdrawing military support.  He had not been happy when Emerson pointed out it would take at least three months for the Andorian Parliament to seat a new Chancellor.  For those three months, the defense of Earth would rest squarely on Vulcan forces and Starfleet's First, Fourth and Fifth Fleets (with Second, Third and Sixth Fleets in Romulan space for the aftermath of the assault on Rho Virginis).  After much deliberation, Gardner concluded that even without the Imperial Guard, the Coalition had sufficient strength to hold off the Romulans for a three month period--if only just barely.

"I've reached a decision," Gardner announced.

Finally, Emerson thought, already planning what he would have for a belated lunch.

"My recommendation to the President will be that he deny the extradition request, citing the lack of evidence that any crime has been committed.  As far as I'm concerned this closes the matter."

Emerson could detect no change in Commander T'Pol's expression, but Commander Tucker's face broke into a relieved smile.  Emerson could certainly sympathize with him.  He had found himself silently pulling for the unique couple, and he approved of Gardner's decision.

There was a subdued rustling around the room as participants prepared to leave, but Undersecretary Vaughan's voice held everyone in place.  "Admiral Gardner, I think you should be aware that the President may not have the final say in this matter."

"What do you mean, Undersecretary?"

"I mean that you cannot leave United Earth's Parliament out of the equation.  Many Members are likely to become extremely um... nervous... at the prospect of losing Andorian military support when the Romulans are so close to Earth.  They can put tremendous pressure on the President to grant the extradition.  I am not certain the President is in any position to withstand that pressure.  You must be prepared for an order from the President to turn Commander T'Pol over to the Andorians."

Gardner grimaced and rubbed his eyes.  In that moment he appeared supremely tired, and Emerson was reminded that this was just one of hundreds of difficult decisions that Gardner had been forced to make in the three years--had it only been three years?--that the war had been raging.  A glance at the two Commanders revealed that Tucker was equally displeased with the Undersecretary's statement.  T'Pol, as usual, remained expressionless.

"Since I have no control over Parliament, there is nothing I can do about your latest piece of information," Gardner said.  He avoided looking at T'Pol or Tucker.

The table fell silent for a long moment, then Gardner's aide, Lieutenant Rasmussen spoke, "Actually sir, there might be."

"I'm listening..."

Rasmussen approached Gardner and spoke quietly in his ear.  Gardner raised his eyebrows and looked thoughtful, then he slowly smiled.

"Commander T'Pol, I have new orders for you," he said.  This time he did look at her.

"Admiral?" T'Pol replied.

"You are to take Chosin and proceed to Eta Corvi.  There you will rejoin Second Fleet and participate in the attack on Rho Virginis.  You are to depart immediately after all repairs to Chosin are completed.  I will direct Starbase Seven's facilities to give priority to Chosin and expedite repairs of her battle damage.  You should be underway within two days."

"Aye, Admiral."  To Emerson's eye, T'Pol seemed marginally confused.

Gardner continued, "I understand that even after repairs are completed, some systems may still be susceptible to failure at any time.  Your subspace radio, for example."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow and appeared about to speak, but Tucker placed a hand on her arm.  "As it happens, Admiral we have been experiencing trouble with our comm systems," Tucker interjected.  "They could go down at any time, and be back up ten minutes later.  It's the darnedest thing, really."

Tucker glanced expectantly at T'Pol, who nodded mutely in agreement.

"Then we're done here," Gardner announced.  "Commanders, please return to your ship.  I want you on your way to Eta Corvi ASAP."

Tucker and T'Pol stood to leave just as Director Stark erupted with indignation, "Just what the hell are you trying to pull, Admiral?  You can't tell your subordinates to ignore communications from headquarters by pretending their radio is broken.  This is an outrage!"

"Nobody said anything of the sort," Gardner replied, smiling innocently.  He made shooing motions toward the door, and Tucker took T'Pol by the arm and led her from the room.

"You won't get away with this, Gardner!" Stark sputtered.  "I'll--"

Undersecretary Vaughan interrupted him.  "For crying out loud, Jeremy.  Give it a rest."

Emerson slid from his chair and hurried from the room, letting the door closed behind him before Stark could complete his outraged response.  Somewhere on this station was a ham sandwich with his name on it, and he was going to find it.

Subcommander Kolna left the meeting and hurried after Commander T'Pol and her mate.  "Commander T'Pol, may I speak with you?"

"Yes?"  T'Pol turned to face him.

Her mate kept walking.  "I've got some business in Repair Department," he said over his shoulder, "I'll meet you back at the shuttlepod."  T'Pol nodded in acknowledgment, then gave Kolna an expectant look.

"The humans are operating under an incorrect premise," Kolna stated.  "You should not make the same mistake."

"If you are referring to their belief that Chancellor Shalin is bluffing, then we are in agreement.  I am fully aware of the Chancellor's past record, and I share your view that he will not hesitate to withdraw from the war, even at the expense of his Chancellorship."

"The Admiral's orders sending you to Eta Corvi have made it a certainty that this will happen.  Shalin will be furious when you are not handed over.  My own analysis of the strategic situation is not so optimistic as the humans; I believe the cost of fighting without Andorian forces will be higher than the humans have predicted."

"That may be," T'Pol said, "however, I have learned that Admiral Gardner's judgment in such matters is usually quite sound.

"It would be agreeable to be proven wrong."

"Indeed," T'Pol said.  "Is there anything else, Subcommander?"

Kolna hesitated, as if unsure how to continue.  "Commander, I have served on the legal staff at the Vulcan Embassy for ten years now.  My job requires me to work closely with my human counterparts.  I am considered by my peers to be an authority on humans.  Yet I am continually confounded by human actions and motivations.  Perhaps I am misreading the situation, but did Admiral Gardner just put his career in jeopardy by ordering you to Eta Corvi?"

"He did.  The President will almost certainly be forced to replace him when his trickery is revealed."

"I see," Kolna said.  "This is not the first time a human has risked his career on your behalf, if the stories Ambassador Soval tell are true.  How do you inspire such loyalty from the humans?"

T'Pol was at a loss for an answer to Kolna's question.  "I am not sure...  Admiral Gardner is an honorable man.  He may well have done the same for anyone else accused unjustly by the Andorians.  Human honor is similar to Vulcan when it comes to opposing injustice."

"Not in this case.  A Vulcan Commander would realize that a withdrawal of Andorian forces would result in a lengthier war and higher casualties.  When weighed against the additional lives lost, the only logical decision would be to place you into Andorian custody.  In this case, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one."

T'Pol was silent, and Kolna suddenly realized that she had already considered that option.  "You are surrendering yourself to the Andorians," he said, eyebrows raised.

"I... I am considering it," T'Pol said softly.  "It is a... difficult decision."

She straightened and spoke again, more briskly.  "I must go.  Do not speak of this to anyone."  She turned and walked away, without a backward glance.

Subcommander Kolna watched her go, deeply disturbed by what had just transpired.  He firmly suppressed the disquieting emotion.  Personal feelings simply had no place interfering with the dictates of logic.  No matter how profoundly distasteful those dictates proved to be.

Continued in Chapter Two