Chapter One

Chapter One

Disclaimer:  I don’t own Star Trek or any of its planets or peoples.  I’m not making money from this story, no copyright infringement is intended.

Keywords:  Survival, ethics, wager, bond

Summary:  As the Romulan war looms, what starts as an innocent little stress-relieving wager between Captains Archer and Hernandez sparks questions, memories and… unexpected revelations!

A/N: This story takes place a couple of months after the Season Four episode “Terra Prime” and a few weeks after the story “As Easy as Breathing”.  Thanks go out to Admiral OhBoy! Archer for kindling the spark that became this tale and to Asso for the support and encouragement when it was needed most!

Unspoken thoughts (as well as “Bond speech”) are shown in quoted “italics”.  Other italicized items depend upon context.

Enterprise NX01         28 March, 2155          Zero seven hundred hours, thirty minutes

Nobody talked much about the danger anymore.

It was such a familiar presence since leaving Jupiter Station that it hardly raised more than casual comment.  It was waiting out there, days ahead or weeks, perhaps as much as months, but sooner or later the Romulans were going to launch another attack.

Mostly the odds were on sooner.

Nobody talked much about it, except Jonathan Archer.

It seemed the captain was talking to everybody.  Mostly about preparations.

Malcolm was running extra weapons practices and security drills.  Trip was checking and re-checking Jupiter Station’s latest upgrades to the ship’s engines, then running simulations on a few improvements of his own.  Hoshi was scanning every possible frequency and band width for rumors or for snatches of Romulan dialects to upload into the universal translator.  Travis was plotting piloting maneuvers for attacks, evasions and retreats.  Phlox was giving classes to all crewmembers on first aid and triage.  T’Pol was evaluating every star system they encountered for planets with breathable air, fuel resources and usable food supplies, for places with conditions where the ship could lie in wait, places it could position itself for defense, or places to hide.

It was his duty, of course, to know and understand the status of each department, to be ready with the right questions at this morning’s 0100 scheduled briefing.  To ask about readiness or vulnerability and to hear the late-night concerns under the quick snatches of daytime conversation.  He accepted it, as he’d once accepted his role as a joyous explorer, leading the crew of Earth’s first warp five vessel into the wonders of the stars.

It was amazing now, looking back at who he was the day when Earth first disappeared from Enterprise’s aft viewers on its way to QonoS.  God, had he really been that young?  That idealistic?  Probably they all had, except T’Pol maybe, and even her sense of cynical Vulcan certainty had been shaken countless times since then.

Of course, he’d seen many long dreamed-of wonders, some of them amazing far beyond his imagining: up-close comets, stellar nurseries, dark matter nebulae, rogue planets…  And when the taste of his own weary cynicism grew too bitter in his mouth, he reminded himself there were more of them out there, waiting to be discovered, along with new friendships and alliances.

That was what the new Coalition of Planets was all about: friendships, alliances.

It was only weeks ago he stood before representatives of Vulcan, Tellar, Andoria and several other worlds, speaking of what they could accomplish together.  His words had been met by rousing applause that brought a proud, aching lump to his throat, especially as he looked across the room to where his shipmates stood at parade rest.

His senior officers.  His friends.

But even the closeness they’d shared these last years didn’t always ease the loneliness that came with command.

Mostly he could relegate the subtle sense of isolation to the background.  But sometimes, especially in the early mornings, when he woke to another in an on-going series of days spent watching…  wondering… waiting… as he had done for all those months in the Expanse last year, he was all too conscious of the solitary weight of responsibility resting squarely on his shoulders.

He accepted that too, and usually, even within the silence of his own mind, without complaint.  But sometimes, like this morning, he wished there was a way to shrug the responsibility… not off precisely but… into some different position, one that eased tired mental muscles and allowed him to rediscover where his strengths and resiliency lay.

Closing out the latest report from his Armory Officer, he reached for the pot of coffee at the side of the desk in his ready room.  Unfastening the cover, he poured the hot, dark liquid into his mug, savoring the aroma of the rising steam and allowing its warmth to caress his face before re-sealing the pot.

He picked up the mug, pausing to study the cartoon on its side before taking his first sip.  Two slump-shouldered, droop-winged eagles wearing snow-shoes stood on top of a mountain, staring blearily at each other.  The dialogue balloon above one of their heads held the words “Whoever said getting there is half the fun?”  It had been a present from Erika Hernandez last year when they’d gone climbing together during his shore leave after the Xindi mission.

If anyone understood first-hand the burdens and blessings of deep space command, it was Erika, who, for the past several months had captained Earth’s second Warp 5 vessel, NX02, Columbia.

And not only did Erika understand command, she understood… him!

She always had.

With her, there was no need to display unwavering confidence when uncertainties nagged at him.  He could talk to her about serious concerns and know that the one thing she wouldn’t let him take too seriously was himself.  There was no need to search out words to fill in the silences between them, they both trusted that what needed saying would find language in its own time.

Their easiness together had been the hardest thing to give up when duty to Starfleet ended their deepening romance before Enterprise launched back in 51.  He was glad beyond words they’d rediscovered each other after the Xindi mission, and though they’d made no commitments, that she had a part in his life again.

He took another swallow of coffee, studied the exhausted eagles a moment longer and tried to think of reasons not to follow an urge to contact her.

It wasn’t like he had news.  If there was any, with all the strong possibility that the com channels had been compromised by Romulan operatives, he wouldn’t be able to report it anyway!

“So why did he want?  Need?  To get in touch with Captain Hernandez?”

Okay, so it wasn’t exactly Captain Hernandez that he wanted to talk to this morning.

Or… only partly Captain Hernandez.

Mostly, it was simply Erika.

Someone who understood his duties, desires, disillusions and most of all, his dreams so very well.

Of course there were others who’d shared them over the years: his dad, A. G. Robinson, Maxwell Forrest and Trip Tucker.

His dad was dead.  So were Robinson and Forrest.  Trip was hale and healthy and either grabbing a quick breakfast in the Mess or already tinkering away down there in engineering.  Jonathan could probably arrange for the two of them to get together for a water polo vid and a couple of beers after A Shift was over.  It’d been a while since the two old friends had made time to talk about anything beyond the borders of duty.  Or to just munch pop corn and pretzels and shout, cheer or groan as the match unfolded.  It’d be a good time, a time to relax…

Or would it?

Things had been kind of odd between him and Trip the last few days.  Ever since they got back from Al Avaron Six.

But no…  Trip had been… what?  Well, the best word he could come up with was constrained, even before that.  Jonathan would once have said “distant”, though that wasn’t quite right.  It implied a coldness that wasn’t part of Trip’s what?…  Distraction, maybe?  He wasn’t sure that fit either.  He’d have put the change down to grief over the death of Trip’s baby girl in January, but, looking back, something about him had been different since they’d been rescued from the Algieba mines early last fall.

At first, Jonathan had dismissed it as a temporary after-effect of the concussion Trip sustained there, along with a resultant memory loss.  He couldn’t have said there was any actual problem though, until after the run-in with the Romulans in November, when Trip came to him, asking for a transfer and refusing to give any reason for wanting it.

When he returned to Enterprise a few weeks later, the comradeship between them had seemed a little awkward, the years of trust, somewhat strained.  But then came the incident with Terra Prime, and the rhythm of their minds, working together in tandem, had started clicking away again, as steady and instinctive as ever.  Afterward, Trip’s bereavement leave for Elizabeth’s memorial, followed by their insane schedules of Starfleet briefings and engine upgrades and refits at Jupiter Station had kept them from exchanging more than a handful of words for days at a time until Enterprise left Spacedock last month.

Since then, they hadn’t spent as much off-duty time playing one-on-one hoops in the gym, or watching sports vids in his quarters as they once had.  But there hadn’t been as much off duty time to spend doing anything at all!  And Jonathan would have sworn that their working relationship had returned to normal.

Until Al Averon.

That was when he at last found words for Trip’s behavior.  Reticent, even guarded.  Though he hated to admit it, this new constraint between him and his oldest friend was one more factor adding to this wearying isolation.

Which brought him…

Where else?

Back to Erika!

When, in December, Trip returned to Enterprise, after overseeing Columbia’s launch, Erika said she knew exactly what was going on with the engineer.

“I’m surprised you haven’t guessed,” she’d told him.  Her face on the personal com link in his quarters had, at first-glance appeared serious, though he knew her well enough to recognize there was a hint of suppressed laughter coming into her vivid dark eyes.

He’d frowned.  Speculated.  “I know Phlox said Trip was very concerned about a miscalculation he made while setting up a piece of equipment in Sickbay, one that turned out to be inconsequential, but I really can’t imagine that was enough of a reason to make him want to leave…”

She was already shaking her head, still not so much as cracking a smile, though by then he could tell that holding back was costing her some degree of effort.  “I could have told you what was going on the first night he arrived here.  Jon, it was a woman.”

He couldn’t have heard that right!  Trip?  Mister Southern Charm himself, whose standard line: “I was a perfect gentleman” had been something of a running joke on the bridge back before the Xindi mission?  Leaving?  Because of a woman?  Without giving his best friend so much as a hint?

Jonathan had stared at her and pulled his incredulous jaw shut.  “Trip told you that?”

“No.  Of course not.”

“Then, Erika, how do you know?”

“I’m a woman.”

“I know that, but…”

“Good.  I’m glad to hear it.”

By then she’d been enjoying herself entirely too much.

“I don’t know what that has to do with anything!”  He’d protested.

“You would…” she’d paused, her expression dead-pan for a long second or two.  “If you were a woman!”

With that, the merriment in her eyes spilled over into bubbling laughter.  It had warmed him that day far more than this cup of coffee was doing now.

Oh, all right then, that was it.

He reached for the com link.  “Hoshi, I want to get in contact with Columbia.”

He picked up, then looked for where he’d left off reviewing Malcolm’s report on the latest security upgrades and, before he was more than three paragraphs into an updated analysis of phase cannon realignment sequences, her voice came over the link.  “Sir, I have Columbia.  Are you ready for me to patch it through?”

“Go ahead, Ensign.  On scramble.”  He topped off his coffee, picked up the steaming mug and settled back in his chair.  An instant later, the Starfleet logo filled the screen, only to be replaced by the sight of Erika seated in the Captain’s Mess over on Columbia.

“Captain Hernandez,” he acknowledge, giving her time to push aside what had to be a plate stacked with pancakes and to set down a glass of orange juice.  “I hope that you’re enjoying your breakfast!”

“Jonathan!” her face on the monitor beamed with momentary delight even as her shoulders braced with apprehension.  Gone were the days when purely casual contacts could be assumed.

“At ease!”  He saluted her with his coffee mug and watched her shoulders relax.

Smiling, she reached for her own mug and saluted him with it in return.  He couldn’t make out all the details of its colorful art, but well remembered the little cartoon man sprawled out over a mountain peak covering the upper curve of the handle.  Eyes crossed, arms and legs dangling, his panting pink tongue lolled in a way that reminded Jonathan more than a little of Porthos.  A series of letters zigzagged downward through the representation of clouds.  “I… climbed… Mount McKinley…”  He’d given it to her almost five years ago now, after another climbing trip, this one to Denali.

He turned his mug until he was certain she recognized the eagles on the side of it, then continued to hold it where she could see the design as well as his eyes, smiling as they met hers above the rim.  So much to say without the need for, or the risk of, words.

“Remember that night on the mountainside after the Xindi mission?  How all those years apart seemed to melt away within the warmth of embracing arms?  Hear the music two heartbeats made together?  The old familiar tenderness?  The trust?”

Jonathan raised the mug higher, until it touched the screen.  She did the same, until their reaching hands shaped the suggestion of a peak and sealed the secrets of that night, witnessed only by the crystal edged wilderness stars overhead.

“Remember the climbers’ code?  Whatever happens on the mountain, stays on the mountain.”

It was amazing to him, even after so much time in deep space, how well emotions could travel, not only through vacuum, but through both kilometers and com links.  Their gazes held for several silent seconds before, as if on signal, they lowered their mugs.

Erika, Jonathan realized, was studying him, reading deep and finding something that had her brow furrowing.  “Everything all right over there, Jon?”

He shrugged.  “Right as can be expected.”

Setting aside her coffee, she returned the gesture with the lift of one shoulder.  It spoke a thousand more unnecessary words.  Reconnaissance, readiness, Romulans.  “It’s about the same here.”

“It seems,” Jonathan quirked the merest trace of a grin.  “That these days, the best news is no news.”

A frown touched the corners of her mouth, there and gone in a heartbeat before she banished it with a determined lift of her chin.  In that gesture, Jonathan saw first a brief reflection of his own weariness and then the tenacious streak that marked both of them as explorers, one that demanded he search beyond the fatigue for something to appreciate, even to savor- just as he was savoring this spur-of-the-moment conversation.

It was strange.  A year ago, he’d resented the determined idealism of the untried captain.  He’d told her that he’d lost something out among the stars.  Somehow, she’d helped him find it again, to recognized that hope was an ingrained part of the nature they shared.  But the touch of fatigue around her eyes, that first moment of apprehension in the set of her shoulders told him it wouldn’t have been surprising to think she might just as easily have been the one initiating this same type of contact this morning.

But only after she’d finished that stack of pancakes!  Unless he missed his guess, they were her long-time favorite, banana.

At recognition of that memory, he found the first real smile of the morning spreading itself across his face.

“Well, at least…” she said and matched his smile as her eyes began to dance with a teasing light.  “Even if there’s nothing else you can tell me about, you can update me on how my Chief Engineer is doing these days.”

No wonder the songwriters said that life was a circle!  A little while ago, thoughts of Trip had sent him to Erika, and now she’d just brought him…

Where else?

Back to Trip.

His smile became a laugh.  Damn it, that felt good!  He hadn’t been doing nearly enough of it lately!  Contacting Erika was the best thing he could have done to deliver himself from this morning’s case of the doldrums!  “My Chief Engineer is just fine, thanks.”  Then he forced himself to qualify.  “At least I believe he is.”

Erika’s eyebrows lifted.  “Better than when he left here?”

“I think so.  He’s just seemed somewhat… preoccupied.”

“Enough to affect his performance?”  Any hint of amusement was gone.  All at once it was Captain Hernandez that was studying him across hundreds of star-systems.

And it was Captain Archer who considered the answer.  “No, everything’s fine in that regard.  Better than fine.  Trip sets a higher standard for himself and his crew than anybody I’ve ever worked with.”

At his words, Erika relaxed, then nodded.  “I know.  He runs a tight department.  As far behind our original launch schedule as Columbia was, he still managed to get her up and running on time.  But half my engineering staff was threatening to request transfer while he was here.”

Jonathan frowned in some surprise.  “Really?”

Despite his high standards, Trip’s approachable manner and his willingness to work harder and longer than anybody in his command had always inspired loyalty on Enterprise, not disaffection!  “You never told me that.”

“Call it intuition,” said Erika.  “But I had the idea his impatience and short temper would cool once he got back home again.”

“There’s no trouble like that since he’s been back.  He settled in like he hadn’t been gone at all.  In fact, he’s never once mentioned that transfer, or told me what asking for it was all about in the first place.  Frankly, I was so pleased to have him back I didn’t ask.”

Picking up her cup, Erika settled back, comfortable in her chair.  She smiled as the familiar teasing light crept back into her eyes.  “I think we’ve had this particular discussion before.”

“I remember.  You said it was because of a woman.  Right.”

Her eyes sparkled over the edge of the cup.  “I have absolutely no doubt about it.  There’s somebody over there he developed feelings for.”

Closing his eyes, Jonathan ran through a list of possible candidates and scenarios.  Had there been anybody Trip’s glances had followed a little longer than usual when he and the captain had walked through the corridors together?  Anyone whose eyes lingered on Trip for an extended durations?  Had there been instances of awkward silences?  Quickly suppressed smiles?  Stammering speeches?  Babbling?  Blushes?  Blanches?  Had he noticed an increased level of friction when he went for a visit or an inspection down in Engineering?

He checked off a series of unsatisfactory answers.  No, there hadn’t been anybody.  No, there wasn’t anyone.  No, nothing like that, no, no and no.  Not that he’d noticed.  And one last time, no.

Jonathan opened his eyes.  “And, you’re so certain of this because…?” he challenged, as amusement vied with exasperation.  “No, don’t tell me.  It’s because you’re a woman!”

“I’m glad to know you remember that, too.”

Amusement won.  “It’s something I’d be hardly likely to forget,” he began.

But suddenly it was difficult to keep the smile going.  The missing of her was far too great, the regret for the lost years of closeness was too deep.

Neither of them had asked, or wanted, the other to resign their commission for the sake of the relationship back in ’51, when he was awarded command of Enterprise.  After all these years, he still didn’t know how they could have handled things differently, when she was as committed to Starfleet as he was.  “Married” to it, she had said once, months ago, her tone not quite as light or casual as her words.  But when he remembered the warmth of her in his arms on that mountain-side, the question came back to him.  Why had they stopped seeing each other?

Regulations, of course.  Old, old regulations, going back for centuries, pre-dating Starfleet.  Regulations that disregarded all depth and degree of feelings as something to be dismissed by a simple act of will.  Regulations barring what had gone drily down in the books as “fraternization”.

Not taking his eyes off Erika, Jonathan groped for his coffee-mug, then took a large swallow to banish the tightening dryness in his throat.  Why had neither of them even thought to question their decision to break things off?

They could have put the romance part of their relationship on hold after his promotion.  Her advancements had been swift and steady.  It wouldn’t have been all that long until her rank was equal to his own.  They could at least worked to keep the friendship intact instead of walking away without a backward glance.  Could have remained confidants, offered a support system for each other.  It would sure have beat deciding the regulations were right and everything between them could suddenly and simplistically be minimized to fit inside the single word “inappropriate”.

Hell, what had they been thinking?

He’d been heading out here into space aboard Enterprise, while she’d accepted an officer’s commission on Republic!  Whatever kind of romance could they even have conducted from hundreds of light-years apart?

That breakup of theirs wouldn’t have been due to anything as simple as ambition.  Probably it had a lot to do with their mutual love for the wonder-filled, unexplored space that, after years of study and work had at last seemed close enough for them to hear it all but calling both their names.  Or maybe the idea that any emotional ties trailing behind them needed to be cut, since there was a chance they might compromise their diligent attention to duty.

Crazy, earnest, idealistic notion.

They really had been young then, hadn’t they?

That first night, back on Earth, when she’d come up from behind, tapped him on the shoulder and said the bar was for regular customers, not for heroes, he’d realized that emotional ties were never really cut.

Or his heart wouldn’t have all but danced in his chest when he turned to see her standing there.

Maybe their parting had held an element of naïve certainty that once they’d satisfied the need to touch the unknown, time would bring them back together for another chance to reconnect later.

Well, that had been before Xindi.

Before Klingons.

And before Romulans.

Now, despite his belief in the importance of Starfleet’s mission, he couldn’t help but wonder if, because of that decision, far too much that was precious had somehow been sacrificed.

It was a painful question.  Especially in the current situation, when the knowledge that with the Romulan threat growing every day, any conversation they had could be the last.

At least he knew that, right now, in this instant, there was nothing more important for him to do than gaze at her intelligent, animated features, her lively dark eyes and that sleek pony-tail of hers which could look so practical and professional and yet, at the same time, so joyous and jaunty, and acknowledge to himself how infinitely precious the sight of all of them was to him.

How precious Erika Hernandez was.

At last he found a trace of the smile that he’d wanted to accompany his words.

But she’d caught the hesitation.  He saw her brows lift in quick inquiry.  “Jon…?” she began, then paused.

He’d seen that questioning look before.  Halfway up that mountain after the Xindi mission.  But she wasn’t going to pry.  She’d let him choose whether to release his early-morning demons with words, or to rediscover his own strength in silence, all the while letting him know she was behind him whichever path he picked.

“I have a bet to make with you,” she said, after several silent, attentive seconds.  Something of the bantering tone had come back into her voice.  He could grab onto that and run with it if he wished and disregard the gentleness in the way she’d spoken his name.  Or he could go back to the soft note of inquiry there and take the opening she’d provided to elaborate on just what had prompted him to make this early-morning contact.

Right now, he wasn’t sure anything needed to be said.  Just looking at her, knowing she was there for him in the same way he was for her and that they shouldered similar burdens had eased much of the sense of isolation.

“Okay,” he said, surprised to discover a more spontaneous grin spreading across his face and that he’d leaned forward in his chair, brows raising in curiosity.  “I’m listening.”

Had there been a hint of challenge beneath her bantering tone a moment ago?  Yes, he was almost certain of it.  Something beyond the hint of mischief brightening her eyes again as she too leaned forward?

 “Since you’ve been wondering about it anyway,” she said, drawing out the words with considered slowness, as if she found each one of them almost as delicious as her pancakes.  “You are going to discover for yourself what’s preoccupied Commander Tucker these last months.  And then, on the small, very small, almost infinitesimal chance that I’m wrong and the Commander is not suffering the effects of some unrequited love, the next time we’re in San Francisco, I’m taking you out to dinner.  You get to choose the place, the drinks, the appetizers as well as the entre…”

“And the dessert?” he teased.

“And the dessert,” she confirmed.

She must really have the courage of her convictions about this if she was going to let him make that decision for her!  Erika had always been very particular when it came to choosing her desserts!

Then her earlier words hit him.

She couldn’t be serious!  Talk?  To Trip?  About, what, his love life?

God, no!

Jonathan didn’t know whether to laugh or groan.  Not that there was a choice.  Amazed laughter was already rippling its way up his throat.

But after a moment, his laughter gave way to the threatened groan, even though that incredulous grin still seemed plastered across his face.  Did she know what she was asking?  He was supposed to discuss Trip’s love life with him?  On purpose?  Didn’t she realize that wasn’t a planned kind of conversation?  Of course she would…

If she was a guy.

Then she’d know that sort of thing was fallen into more or less by chance!  In the course of watching a sports-vid, maybe, if the action slowed.  Along with a workout in the gym perhaps, or over a couple of shore-leave beverages.  Or even during a long, slow shuttle-pod journey, once the course was set, the scans made and there was nothing left to do but watch for a sight of home in the long-range sensors…

The whole horrible idea wasn’t made any more comfortable by knowing he and Trip were old, old friends, who’d always been able to talk about virtually anything!

Or at least they had been…

Until lately.

The groan trailed away into a long, drawn out sigh and the grin faded as Jonathan sank back in his chair.

Setting all bets and banter aside, Erika had a point.  Something sure as hell had been going on in the chief engineer’s head.  And there was no sense putting it off.  It was time to get to the bottom of it.  He’d have to talk to Trip.  At least about Al Averon.

People had a right to their privacy, yes, but not where the ship’s safety was concerned.  Trip’s reluctance to discuss anything to do with that away mission, on top of his odd reticence these last months, would compromise the open communication he and Jonathan had shared since their days working together on the Warp 5 Project.

As a long-time friend, Jonathan could maybe ignore the sting of Trip’s unwillingness to confide something that was obviously troubling him and allow him to work through whatever it was in his own way.  But as his captain, that time was a luxury he could no longer afford to give.  With the threat of Romulan attack stretching like a dark, obscuring cloud across the stars, anything that undermined a sense of trust could mushroom in a dozen unpredictable ways during moments of pressure.

He’d known Trip so long and, he’d always thought, so well, that trust had become almost an ingrained habit.  But the truth was, that trust had already been undermined, more than he’d allowed himself to acknowledge until now.  Probably had been almost from the moment Trip had walked out of this same room after saying the last thing Jonathan had expected to hear from him-

“Captain, I want a transfer.”

–before flat-out refusing to give any sort of explanation.

What Jonathan hadn’t recognized was that half of the problem was coming from his own sense of having been betrayed.  Not by his fellow officer, but by his friend.

“I’ll talk to him,” he said, both humor and resignation giving way to determination.

Erika was nodding.  Of course, she’d known he’d say that.  Because she knew him.  Somehow that helped.

For that matter, so did that crazy bet of hers.  He could deal with the seriousness of the situation and not get so weighed down by whatever lay behind it, while the vision of her bright, understanding eyes sparkled encouragement from the back of his mind.  Hadn’t he told himself only a little while ago that he could speak to her of serious concerns and know that the one thing she wouldn’t let him do was to take himself too seriously?

“All right,” he said.  “And if, after I talk with him, it turns out you’re right and Trip’s gotten himself tangled up in an unrequited love for some member of the crew over here, then how do I counter your ante?”

That question was a lot easier and a hell of a lot less complicated than that of how he’d deal with Trip and the possibility that they were looking at the whole ugly “fraternization” issue.

Great!  The man was his oldest friend!  Now he and Erika were sitting here talking about an area of Trip’s life that Jonathan had no desire at all to go prying into without being invited, but Trip was also a member of Starfleet with years of service.  A department head who knew the rules and regulations as well as anyone.  A senior officer in Jonathan’s own chain of command, one of whose duties was to lead by example.  Someone who, if Erika was right, should have dammed well known better than to get himself into such a predicament!

Whether she was right or not, the situation would have to be confronted.

For the sake of Enterprise.

For the sake of his oldest friendship.

Even for the sake of that silly wager that had to be settled as well as for these last few moments of precious, early morning conversation with Erika before he got back to the business of running the ship.

Erika, he realized, was still speculating on his part of the bet.  Cupping her chin in one hand, she drummed her fingers against one cheek and considered.  “Well, you could be the one to buy dinner?  Hmm, no…  Something more original than that, since I only thought up that idea on a moment’s notice.  In the event you stand to lose the bet, I think you should be the one to decide your own ante.”

Jonathan’s gaze traveled upward from her face, past the top of the monitor, as if all good responses were written, clear and bold, on the bulkhead’s smooth surface.  There were none.  He looked back at Erika, the bantering tone of his voice only a little forced.  “How long do I get to think about it?”

“Trip’s talk or your part of the wager?”

“Both.”

“The talk?  You’ll want to get that taken care of A S A P, and not just for the sake of settling the bet.  Deciding on the ante, let’s say …”   She shrugged, her eyes still bright.  “Hmm.  Twenty four hours?  As for what it is, you’ll make it good.  I trust you.”

Jonathan found the grin was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth again.

“Amazing what a good idea talking to her this morning had been!”

When he needed a little break from phase cannon alignment, or from Hoshi’s detailed breakdown of at least eight conjugative forms of Romulan verbs, he could pause to come up with a lot of interesting options for collecting on that bet!

“Under these circumstances,” he teased.  “That could prove dangerous!”

“I’ll chance it,” said Erika.  “If we couldn’t face a little risk, we wouldn’t be out here, would we?”

He loved the way she had of putting things in perspective.  How she reminded him of who he was, what had brought both of them out into the stars in the first place.

His grin widened.

Rogue planets, comets, supernovas.  They were the wondrous returns for the risks, reconnaissance, Romulans and, ultimately all part of a day in the life he’d chosen.  “Let’s put it this way,” he said.  “I wouldn’t trade this for Admiral Gardner’s desk.”

He could still hear her laugh, see her emphatic nod of agreement as he signed off.  He finished his mug of coffee, considered a refill then decided it could wait.  He picked up Malcolm’s data PADD, located the spot where he’d left off on the latest adjustment to phase cannon alignment sequences, then, before preparing to immerse himself in it, he reactivated his com.

“Hoshi,” he said.  “Put me through to Engineering.  I need to have a word with Commander Tucker.”