Missing Scenes from Season Three - Azati Prime

SPOILERS: "Azati Prime" and prior episodes in Season 3, and it will probably make little sense without them.

DISCLAIMER: All things Star Trek belong to CBS/Paramount.  "Azati Prime" was written by Rick Berman, Brannon Braga, and Manny Coto, and I do pick up a substantial chunk of their original dialogue this time.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: As a literal-minded Vulcan translating the English colloquialism might say, now the excrement is beginning to travel through a ventilation device.  This missing scene uses some existing show dialogue because, well, it needed it in order to get to the ending I wanted.  I know a lot of T'Pol fans hate "Azati Prime."  While the sudden revelation that our favorite Vulcan is a Trellium-ho IS shocking, and Archer's sacrifice makes no tactical sense in any universe I can imagine, I still find this episode riveting.  What I've added here would never work on television (and may only be middlin' as fanfic), but I wanted some insight into T'Pol's thought processes.  Many thanks as always, reviewers and beta JustTripn.

No, she didn't need Trip's leadership advice.  She already knew she was failing spectacularly. 

Unfortunately, she was also certain that watching her fall apart on the bridge would do more harm to the crew's wavering morale than what she was doing right now, which was ... what? 

Trying to come up with a plan, any plan, that wasn't guaranteed to result in all their deaths and the destruction of Earth? 

Or just desperately attempting to hold off what the humans called a nervous breakdown? 

Why was it so difficult to focus and do what the situation required?  She tried to lay out the facts logically:  Archer wasn't coming back.  Trip was probably right about that.

How could she not have foreseen the possibility that she would have to take over for the captain at a point like this?  She had been reeling with dismay ever since his announcement of his plan, but she had been utterly unable to counter it with a better one. 

It was particularly hard not to flash back to that long nightmare of an alternative timeline she had 'dreamed' a couple of months back.  She'd failed them then, too.  Perhaps that explained the oppressive sense of doom that she felt now.

Or perhaps it was because there were simply no good options left.

She noticed that she was wringing her hands and forced herself to stop.  Perhaps this was what inevitably happened when a Vulcan suffering from Pa'nar Syndrome and an unfortunate preoccupation with one Human engineer stupidly imagined she could safely experiment with emotions by ingesting and then injecting Trellium-D over a period of three months.

Even now, as she struggled to come up with their next move, her body was surging with unpredictable barrages of emotions ... and demanding its next dose of Trellium-D, or her hands on Trip's skin, or both. 

And whatever executive function she had left was overwhelmed with disgust that she had picked NOW of all times to realize this.

She blinked.  A plan.  They needed a plan.

Archer had taken the only ship that could get them inside the Xindi's well-fortified defenses.  Enterprise stood no chance.  A shuttle stood no chance.  Either ship would have to be invisible to succeed.  They could not be invisible.

A distraction?

Distractions were ineffective against automatic detection grids.

Perhaps, as a Vulcan, she could make a diplomatic overture where the Humans could not?

But Rajin had scanned her, too.  Presumably, they knew she served with the Humans.  It was also difficult to make successful diplomatic overtures on behalf of a species if merely mentioning who they were or why the overtures were needed would immediately doom your efforts and spark a massive search for the ship full of Humans who were depending on you to save them.

Where could Enterprise hide?  If the captain had been captured, leaving the protection of this planetoid was certain to bring the Xindi down upon them.  However, their destruction of the lunar outpost would inevitably bring an investigation sooner or later.  They could not stay here much longer. 

And even if they could beat a successful strategic retreat, what about the weapon?  What about Earth?

She got up and paced the ready room floor, trying to walk off the terrible urge to go and simply huddle in the darkest corner of the ready room.  Trip was right.  The crew needed her to go out there and act as if she had a clue what to do. 

Except that she couldn't.  Because she didn't know what to do. 

Why hadn't Archer told them what to do if his plan didn't work?   Was it because he also realized there was absolutely nothing else that stood the least chance of success?  Or had he suffered from the delusion that she was capable of handling the job?

Just a week ago, she would have assumed she was.  But events since then had conspired to reveal the truth.

First, Trip's unilateral decision to end the neuro-pressure sessions had made her realize just how much she depended on them.  Indeed, as a run of increasingly sleepless nights passed without any physical contact to soothe her, she had contemplated telling him that she was the one who needed those sessions now.  She knew he would help her if it came to that.  But they had also been running intense combat drills the whole time, readying themselves for whatever waited at Azati Prime.  So even if she had wanted to admit her weakness to him, finding time to fit in a session would have been difficult.

Second, faced with the startling reality of her dependence on him, she had made a grim resolution about another unfortunate habit: she must stop the Trellium-D.  Her increasingly rampant emotions were not likely to be helpful in a crisis.  And if a part of her also wanted to reject all those feelings now simply because he had rejected her, even if only temporarily, that was just further evidence that she had indulged in this dangerous flirtation with feeling for far too long.

Unfortunately, that second resolution had proven incredibly distracting.  She had reduced her next dose, which had also been the last she had prepared for administration, thinking that it would be wiser to wean herself off rather than to stop all at once.  She had told herself she would use the remaining partial dose only if it became truly necessary.  She could then leave the rest of the Trellium-D ore undisturbed in Cargo Bay Two, and reclaim her heritage. 

However, less than six hours later, she'd injected all the rest of it, and found it appallingly insufficient. 

That was when she'd first realized that stopping was going to be much more of a challenge than she had realized.  She would have to step the doses down more gradually ... perhaps even wait for a less stressful time to make the attempt.

However, events since then had then conspired to keep her from Cargo Bay Two and the ore she needed to maintain herself.  She had tried to get in there four separate times, and each time she had been interrupted.  And right now all eyes in the crew were following her, waiting for her to tell them what to do. 

She had comforted herself that this lack of access would help her keep her resolution even in the face of her own weakness.  But now her craving for more Trellium-D had become a loud and constant drumbeat, shredding her ability to attend to anything beyond the most routine tasks. 

There was no escaping the obvious conclusion: she had become, at the very least, deeply psychologically dependent on Trellium-D. 

She, T'Pol of Vulcan, daughter of T'Les, was an addict.

They would be better off without her right now.  Trip was in better control of himself than she was. And if he wasn't waiting for her lead - or pushing and prodding her to take it - he'd step up and figure out the next steps without her.

Perhaps she could find Archer.  Perhaps he could even "pull a miracle out of his ass," as Trip would put it.  She could use diplomacy as an excuse.  She might even attempt it, if the opportunity arose.

Realistically, however, the best thing she could do for Enterprise right now was simply to get out of the way.

x x x

She had given them another hour to wait for Archer - time in which she had given Trip the assignment of installing Sato's translation matrix in the shuttle, hoping to keep him busy instead of arguing with her.   He'd reminded her that she'd have to take the shuttle that wasn't insulated with Trellium-D, and she'd been tempted to tell him it didn't matter - that it might even help - but she didn't want to leave them without their one insulated shuttle, anymore than she wanted to admit she'd been helping herself to their carefully packed cache of the ore for the last three months. 

Perhaps now they would be able to use the remaining Trellium-D for the purpose for which it had been intended.

She spent the time huddled with Ensign Sato, reviewing material the ensign had been gathering from their Xindi database about their diplomatic protocols. 

Ultimately, she and Sato decided to focus on the Aquatics, since Azati Prime was clearly a water planet, and because she knew the least about that species.  Thankfully, the need to focus on new material was a welcome distraction from everything else that was claiming her attention.

When the hour had almost passed, the door buzzed and Commander Tucker stepped in.  "The translation matrix is installed," he said grimly.  "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

Sato immediately stood, ready to leave them to it, but T'Pol had no intention of letting Trip get started.  "This is not a good time," she said, standing and signaling to Sato that she should follow as she hurriedly brushed past Tucker and out the door.

On the bridge she waited for him to follow them out.  She had never had it in her to offer rousing speeches, and in any case she knew that what she had to offer today was unlikely to bolster anybody's spirits or resolve.  "The ship is yours, Commander," she said to Tucker, as the rest of the bridge crew watched.  "If I meet with any success, I will contact you."

Tucker raised his hands to his hips, clearly readying an argument.  Before he could open his mouth, she added, "May you all live long and prosper," and headed straight into the turbo-lift.

He jumped into it before the doors could shut.  "This plan of yours doesn't make any sense," he said.  "You must realize that."

"Daniels urged the captain to make peace with the Xindi.  That suggests it has the potential to work."

"Since when do you listen to Daniels?"

"Perhaps he's the reason we haven't heard from the captain yet.  For all we know, Daniels might have somehow intercepted the captain."

Trip scowled.  "Then what's the point of heading off on a fool's errand yourself?  The crew already lost one captain today.  We can't deal with another one so soon.  T'Pol. Please don't do this to us."  Blue eyes beseeched her.

"I'm sorry," she said.  The lift door opened and she headed down the corridor as fast as she could.  She had to move quickly, before she did something unforgiveable, like crying again.  

It didn't take Tucker long to start up again, as he chased her down the corridor.  "I don't think you're doing this to make peace, I think you want to try and save the captain."

"You 're wrong."  If anything, she was hoping the captain would save her.

"Why do I get the feeling you haven't thought this through?"

That was too close to the truth.  "You have made your objection clear. Now return to the bridge!"

"I'm not just going to sit still and watch you fly off and die!"

"I gave you an order!"  

"T'Pol."  He grabbed her elbow even as she rushed down the gangway.  In some distant, still-analytical part of her brain she wondered if having sex with Trip meant that he would never feel compelled to follow her orders again, or had he simply always ignored her rank when he wanted to?  She tried to wrench herself away from him, and finally succeeded.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he demanded, and she suddenly realized how obvious her lapse of control must have become. 

That was when Reed's voice came and they learned that the Xindi were on their way.  She was too late.

The look in Trip's eyes then - so full of pain and fear and grief and concern - stayed with her even as she rushed back to the bridge and he ran in the opposite direction, towards Engineering.

Too late. 

It was all too late.

There was nothing to do now but see it through.