He set aside his apprehensions, at least for the moment. Being able to believe that he truly was in the right place, doing the right thing–even briefly–was a small comfort after the maelstrom of a day he’d just had, and the cataclysmic changes he’d just introduced into his life.

But it was comfort nonetheless.

Now feeling relatively at ease, he began familiarizing himself with the layout of the Branson’s controls, which he recognized right away, thanks to his Starfleet training. The Bransonwas a small Rutan‑class trading vessel, of a type that hadn’t been built since the late 2130s. Designed to support a maximum of six people and to carry several tons of cargo, the Rutans had a top range of perhaps fifteen light‑years, and were notoriously slow.

Trip didn’t have to spend much time behind the controls before he realized that Phuong had apparently found retrofit remedies for both of those problems.

For the second since he’d come aboard, he smiled. Adigeon Prime, here we come.

Fifteen

Friday, February 14, 2155

Enterprise NX‑01

ARCHER CONSIDERED WAITING, hoping that some kind of glitch–or miracle–would scuttle Trip’s espionage mission. But the captain knew waiting could endanger not only the mission but also his friend’s life. He had to contact the Tuckers now. Trip had outlined his parents’ schedule for the captain, making certain not only that both his parents would be home, but also that his father would already have taken his daily medication.

Although he had first met Charles and Elaine Tucker some twenty years ago, his most memorable encounter with Trip’s parents had come in 2143, when they had come to visit the Academy following the successful–if illegal–flight of the NX‑Beta. Gracie, as she preferred to be called, had pulled Archer aside by his arm, scolding him as if he were her own son.

“Don’t you get my boy involved in any moreof your wild schemes, Jonathan Archer,” she had said, waggling her finger in his face. “I don’t care whoyour daddy was, or how much Trip worships what he did. He needs to learn responsibility, not how to take joyrides across the solar system.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Archer had said guiltily.

A moment later, she had slapped him, lightly, as if to make certain she had his full attention. “Don’t you ‘yes, ma’am’ me as if I’m some tawdry Helena. I’m quite serious.. My boy looks up to you. You need to make sure you’re man enough to deserveit.”

Archer never had found out what a “tawdry Helena” was, but he had spent the better part of the next dozen years or so as Trip Tucker’s friend, confidant, and superior officer. And through it all, he had always tried his utmost to be certain he was man enough to deserve Trip’s respect and friendship.

He tapped the buttons on the padd on his desk, and the image on his screen changed from the white‑on‑blue symbol of Earth’s Starfleet to a darker hue with a moving sine wave superimposed, signifying that his signal was transmitting.

Several moments later, the screen brightened, and Charlie Tucker appeared. “Hello?”He peered into the screen, and his face was almost instantly split by a smile. “Jonathan Archer!”

“Hello, Charlie,” Archer said.

The older man put one hand up and turned to yell over his shoulder. “Gracie, it’s Jonny on the line.”A pause, and then he yelled, “Jonny Archer!”A few seconds later, a middle‑aged woman pulling a housecoat around her shoulders appeared on the screen with Charlie.

“Lordy, you haven’t changed a bit!”Elaine said, smiling. “Must be some alien mojo working to keep you young.”

Archer struggled to keep his composure in the face of such a pleasant greeting. Besides, he knew a polite lie when he heard one, just as he knew how he really looked in the mirror. “Thank you, Gracie. You look as fantastic as always.”

Charlie Tucker craned his head from side to side, peering at Archer–or rather, aroundArcher. “Where’s our boy? He couldn’t make it to the call?”

Archer gulped, and blinked hard. “Mr. and Mrs. Tucker…there’s no easy way for me to tell you this, but earlier today, Trip–”

Elaine Tucker let out a shriek, her happy countenance crumbling. “No! Don’t tell me…”

Charlie put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, drawing her in, muttering something to her that the Tuckers’ audio pickup didn’t quite catch.

“I’m so sorry to have to tell you,” Archer said, his voice low.

Charlie looked toward him across the monitor, his lower lip trembling. “Is he gone, or just injured?”

Archer felt his own eyes welling up with tears. “He’s…gone, sir.”

Charlie looked away, his lips tightening inward and outward. “Was he doing something heroic?”

“Yes, he was,” Archer said. “He was saving me, and the ship. And quite possibly a lot more than that.” This felt less like a lie than the rest of it, but Enterprise’s captain still felt his stomach tying itself into knots over having to deceive the Tuckers.

Elaine let out a deep sob, then shouted something unintelligible through her crying. Charlie pulled her in tighter, and looked back toward the screen.

“All right, Jonny,”he said, his voice quavering. “We…we, um…we need some time to make some sense out of this. Please…uh…forward the details to us, and we’ll be in touch.”

“I understand, and I will,” Archer said. “I want you to know that he was the bravest and best friend I’ve–”

The screen abruptly went black before he could finish. Even though he had lost his father when he was young, and as Enterprise’s captain had lost both Starfleet crew members and MACO troopers, Archer could only imagine the grief the Tuckers must be experiencing now. First their daughter Elizabeth had been killed in the Xindi attack on Earth two years ago, and then, only a couple of weeks ago, their sole grandchild–Trip and T’Pol’s daughter, also named Elizabeth–had died.

And now, as far as they know,Trip is gone, too. But their pain is a lie this time…a lie made necessary by other lies and secrets and subterfuge.He hated the Romulans for driving them to this. More than he had ever hated anything, even the Xindi, he hated them, these faceless creatures from the other side of space.

Archer struggled to regain his composure and tamp down his feelings. He still had to call Trip’s brother Albert. He recalled that Albert and his husband Miguel also lived in Alabama, not far from Charlie and Elaine. He hoped they’d be able to help the Tuckers cope with their latest dose of grief.

Grief caused by the lie of Trip’s death, which we designed and executed so very carefully.Archer wondered what Trip would do once he was free again to resume his old life, if that were ever to happen. Would he find the emotional barriers erected by Section 31’s lies as easy to break down as they’d been to construct?

T’Pol reached for the small framed photograph on Trip’s desk. The image was of him scuba‑diving in Earth’s Caribbean Sea. Below him was a manta ray, its flat form belying the danger posed by its venom‑tipped tail.

She studied the picture for a moment, recalling Trip’s talk of taking her diving. Having grown up on arid Vulcan, T’Pol had had little experience even with swimming, much less underwater sightseeing and adventuring.

She felt sadness welling up inside her again like a towering wave, and stopped to concentrate, willing the emotion to be suppressed. She put the photograph down on top of an open suitcase on the bed. Many more of Trip’s small possessions were in the padded enclosure, including other photographs and the harmonica he’d played from time to time.

T’Pol turned and picked up one of Trip’s royal blue uniform jumpsuits. After the Vulcan High Command had cashiered her, Starfleet had granted her a commission. Yet she had never donned their uniform. Perhaps the Vulcan uniform she still wore–a garment that now bore Starfleet commander’s pips–represented an illogical attachment to the past.