Missing Scenes from Season Two - Cogenitor

<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:2 4 5 3 5 4 6 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1107304683 0 0 159 0;} @font-face {font-family:Calibri; panose-1:2 15 5 2 2 2 4 3 2 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:swiss; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:-1610611985 1073750139 0 0 159 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin-top:0in; margin-right:0in; margin-bottom:10.0pt; margin-left:0in; line-height:115%; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-fareast-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} -->

SPOILERS: “Cogenitor”

DISCLAIMER: Star Trek belongs to CBS/Paramount.  “Cogenitor” was written by Rick Berman and Brannon Braga.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I really didn’t see any good way to insert a Trip and T’Pol scene into this episode, either, so I tacked one on at the end, instead.   Thank you as always, reviewers and beta jT.

T’Pol hovered over her panel in the bridge.  The captain had called her in her quarters and asked her to come to the Bridge and wait there until he called her into his ready room; they had matters to discuss.   

Not long after, Tucker exited the ready room and passed by her on his way to the turbolift.  He looked ill, even dazed, and did not so much as glance in her direction – or anyone else’s – before disappearing into the turbo lift.  The gamma shift crew exchanged glances.

Why had the captain felt the need to further discipline Tucker now, so late at night?   He had already been put on report in anticipation of further disciplinary action.  

Rather than waiting for Archer’s call she went over and buzzed the ready room door.

It took a little longer than usual for the captain to say his customary “Come in.”  When she entered, he was staring out the window, something she’d learned to associate with strong emotions on his part.  He didn’t turn around as he announced, “The cogenitor is dead.  She – it – committed suicide.  Captain Drennick called to tell me.”

“That is most regrettable,” T’Pol said.  That certainly explained the sickly pallor of Tucker’s face.  He would be experiencing grief, and presumably guilt as well. 

Archer might be feeling responsible too, having turned down its request for asylum.   “You made the right decision,” she assured him, once again, for it was true.  Relations with the Vissians would have been permanently damaged, and while Humans could make beguiling company – Commander Tucker, in particular, could be a congenial companion – how happy would the creature have been in the long term, exiled so far from its own kind, or anything even remotely analogous to its own kind?  This was perhaps especially true if it had an impulsive, depressive personality to begin with, as seemed likely.

“Obviously I’ve let things get out of hand,” Archer said.  “I can’t believe Trip took it into his head to do something like that.  Apparently, we need some sort of…” He threw up his hands and began to pace.  “I don’t know.  A training program.  A set of procedures.  More specific guidelines to follow than we already have when interacting with other cultures.  Trip had the nerve to tell me this was something I would do!  I don’t understand how he could even begin to think that.”

Did he truly have no idea?  “Perhaps he saw how you helped the Suliban escape their prison camp, and the Deuterium miners defeat the Klingons, and judged that you considered interference justified in some situations.  Indeed, you recently congratulated him on his willingness to stay and risk death with the Arkonian pilot.  I believe you said that it might have demonstrated to the Arkonians  ‘what Humanity is all about’. “

“Those situations weren’t the same at all!” Archer said impatiently.  “We weren’t helping a single individual rebel against his – her – its – entire society there.” 

“True.  There were approximately sixty individuals involved in each of the first two situations.” 

He gave her a dark look.  “So you do think this is my fault.”

“Assigning fault strikes me as fairly unhelpful in this situation.  However, I agree that setting up some more detailed policies and procedures and related training would be quite useful.”

Archer sat down.  “I want to be able to just trust my people to do the right thing.  Especially Trip.  I don’t understand how he could run so far off the rails, especially after you warned him.”

She had been wondering that herself, but she had a working theory.  “I believe the commander often feels a compulsion to reach out to individuals he sees as alienated or marginalized in some way.”  Indeed, this probably explained the commander’s early friendliness towards her.  

Archer stared at her, clearly thinking it through, before his face cleared.  “You know, I think you’re right.  He’s always been the one to go gather up the lost sheep.  I think half his staff worships him just because of that.  He would recognize that someone had a real genius for something, even though they might be a little rough around the edges, and then he’d recruit them onto his staff and teach them how to play well with others.”  He sat down in his chair.  “Hell, that might explain a couple of his ex-girlfriends, too.” 

T’Pol raised an eyebrow. 

Archer said, “The same thing sort of happened to him, you know.  Jeffries recruited him into his engineering program right out of high school. Trip had wowed everybody with something brilliant – I can’t remember exactly what it was – in a national competition.  So he completed his advanced training while he was working on warp engines for Starfleet.  That’s why he’s such a young commander.  Maybe too young.”

“He handled command appropriately during the crisis on Paan Makar.”

“Yeah, I know.  That’s why I hate to let something like this screw up his career.  And if I know Trip, he’ll be feeling so terrible for so long that he’ll have learned his lesson a hundred times over, maybe even….”  He stopped short, the color draining out of his face.

“Captain?”

“I was … angry.  I think I might have laid it on a little thick.” 

English could still baffle her.  “Laid what on a little thick?”

“Trip takes things to heart.  I’d hate … I think maybe I’d better go talk to him.  Damn.  Look, what I’d like you to do is … draw up some ideas for some more specific first-contact policies and procedures, say by the end of this week.  Ask for suggestions from Malcolm, Hoshi, maybe even Phlox.  We’ll loop Trip in, too, when … when he can handle it.”  Archer went to a compartment and brought down a bottle and two glasses. 

“It’s quite late for a social visit,” she remarked. 

“He won’t be asleep,” Archer said.  “If I know him, he may not sleep for days. “  He gave her a tight smile.  “Thanks, T’Pol.  It’s good to have someone to bounce things off of.  But I think I’d better go now.”  He tucked the bottle under his arm and left. 

T’Pol followed him out.  Archer headed straight for the turbo-lift.  The gamma shift personnel exchanged another round of curious looks.

Archer was worried, she suddenly realized.   Did he fear the commander would do something extreme – as the cogenitor had?  Tucker himself had once warned her about watching for the possibility of suicide in the crew.  Did Archer think Tucker was at risk? 

She returned to her station and pulled up internal sensors.  There were Commander Tucker’s quarters.  And there was Commander Tucker’s bio-sign, moving back and forth, door to window, window to door.  Eventually, another bio-sign entered the room.  The two signs kept a distance from each other.   There was a peculiar, almost circular pattern to their shifting positions.  Two Humans discussing a painful topic, she thought, absent-mindedly giving it a scientific label.

After staring for some time at the little glowing orbs, she realized that this was hardly a productive use of her time.  Captain Archer could handle any emergency, if there was one.  There was no need for concern.  She should go to bed.  Even for a Vulcan, it was getting quite late. 

But instead, she worked through the scans from the Vissian stratopod and periodically returned to her internal sensors.  Eventually the two bio-signs in Commander Tucker’s quarters settled down into closer proximity – they were sitting on bed and desk chair, respectively, she decided. 

When she checked again later, there was just one bio-sign.  It had returned to pacing.  Archer had not returned to the bridge, so perhaps he had gone to bed.  Yes, there he was, along with the smaller orb that marked Porthos, in his quarters.  Just as she should be in hers.  She finished her work with the Vissian scans and ran an internal scan of the Commander’s quarters one more time.

One bio-sign, pacing back and forth.

She stopped outside his quarters.  Her Vulcan hearing caught the faint plodding of footfalls inside.  It was nearly 0300.  Surely he must be exhausted?

Apparently Archer’s company and alcohol had not been sufficient to soothe him.

She thought about buzzing for admission.  Unfortunately, she had no reason to think she could offer any comfort.  Tucker clearly felt that she was in the wrong about this issue.  From the beginning, she’d argued against his involvement with the cogenitor, and from the beginning, he had utterly disregarded her.

Perhaps he had developed a deep attachment to the creature.  Perhaps he had even fallen in love with it – he had, after all, called it her.  What was it Archer had implied about Tucker’s ex-girlfriends?  That they had been “lost sheep” as well?  That might explain his irrational pursuit of disaster in this case. 

How could one man’s heart open to so many different women of so many species in so little time?  Not even just women, but strange, oddly-gendered beings, too?  Wasn’t there was something almost pathological about it, even by Human standards?   

And why was she loitering here in the corridor, listening to his footfalls, as if doing so served any purpose?  Did she intend to stand here all night?

Suddenly the door slid open and Commander Tucker burst out of his room.  He stopped short and stared at her.  His eyes were bloodshot and hooded, his face had darkened with the growth of facial hair, and the fine blond hair on his head was sticking up oddly in a number of places.  There was also, unsurprisingly, a strong taint of alcohol on his breath.

She stared back, overcome with an unpleasant sensation she recognized from childhood:  embarrassment.  She must be overtired.  “Commander,” she said, straightening to her full height as she summoned her control.  “Are you well?”

“I’ll survive,” he said.  “What are you doing here?”

“I believe Captain Archer was concerned about you.”

Tucker grimaced.  “Yeah, he came by.  But that was some time ago.”

“I was returning to my quarters.   I heard you pacing.”

Tucker looked at her in confusion.  “And…?”

“I was concerned.  It is quite late.”

His mouth flattened.  “You know what happened.  To Charles.”

“Yes.  I grieve with thee.”

He looked taken aback for a moment.  “Well, thanks, I guess.  I’m going to get a glass of milk.  Maybe it will help me sleep.”  He said it ruefully, as if he doubted it would work.

Perhaps milk reminded Humans of being safe in the arms of their mothers.  When Vulcans were suffering with emotional or physical difficulties that could not be sufficiently addressed through meditation, they often sought relief through neuropressure from a family member. 

But Mr. Tucker was not a family member.  It would be improper to offer it to him.  Perhaps the milk would be sufficient.

Perhaps because she had not responded, he added, “You’re welcome to join me, but I doubt I’d be very good company.”

“I should get some sleep,” she said, because it was true.

“Okay,” he said, looking confused again.  “Well, good night.”  He turned and walked away.

She watched him go before turning in the direction of her own quarters.  She should attempt to obtain at least a few hours of sleep before the next day began. 

At least now she was confident she would be able to do so.  While Commander Tucker was clearly unhappy, she felt reasonably certain that he would still be with them in the morning.