Forwarded by the ASC-VSO Posted: 7 Jan 2004 16:33:36 -0800 In: alt.startrek.creative From: shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.co.uk (shouldknowbetter) Title: Cry Havoc Series: ENT Begins with "A Logical Proposal" "Cry Havoc'" is seventh in a series of nine stories/ Part: 2/6 Story 21/34 Series Author: ShouldKnowBetter Email: shouldknowbettertt@yahoo.uk.com Rating: PG-13 Codes: Tu/T, all "Enterprise" characters, Soval, action, drama, angst Summary: A planet holds unexpected treasure for Enterprise's crew. CRY HAVOC Part Two It was nearly three hours later when Tucker entered Enterprise's ready room and tossed a PADD onto the desk in front of Archer. "Cap'n." "Trip," Archer looked up in concern, "you look terrible. How long have you been on duty?" Guilty that he hadn't realised that his chief engineer and very good friend had clearly skipped at least one night's sleep – the fact that Archer had done the same didn't count - the captain rose to try to push the man down into a seat although Tucker resisted with a ghost of his usual grin. "Don't, cap'n. If I sit down, I won't get up again." He jerked his head in the vague direction of the PADD. "That's a report on Pushkin's status." "And?" "You can move her. Just don't exceed warp 2 or you'll need me to put her back together again – and I'm gonna be asleep." "Make sure you are." Archer shook the other man affectionately by one shoulder. "Good work, Trip. I never thought you could have her operational so soon." "Most of her engineers survived. Malcolm's still in charge over there, Cap'n. There's a skeleton engineering crew on both ships, but the rest are off duty. They deserve it." "So do you. Go to bed, Trip." "I'm going. Jon," Archer noted the lapse from what passed as formal with Tucker, "d'you know where T'Pol is?" "Did you two argue again?" The engineer grimaced. "She said she needed to meditate. Trip, she's not had any sleep either. I know Vulcan's don't need it but … " Archer shrugged, reminding himself that the other man knew his first officer much better than he did. "Good night, commander." Tucker nodded absently and headed for the door. "Night, Cap'n." Archer smiled to himself and returned to his desk to read Tucker's report. Maybe Trip and T'Pol would eventually manage to get through a week without arguing but it was starting to look unlikely. At least they always made up as quickly as they fell out. T'Pol's meditation was interrupted by her door chime. She considered not answering but that was hardly logical given the current crisis. The fact that she was curious about the whereabouts of one particular individual was entirely irrelevant. "T'Pol," Tucker was leaning against the door frame, making no attempt to enter, "if I tell you how I'm real sorry for shouting at you, can I come in?" He was exhausted and filthy and probably insincere and he made a mockery of her emotional control. "Yes." Tucker let the door slide closed behind him but for once didn't take T'Pol in his arms as he normally did the moment they were alone. "You were right. I was too tired but I didn't wanna let the cap'n down and I was shit scared the Klingons were gonna come back before we were ready." "She was very attractive." T'Pol couldn't believe she had said that and apparently neither could Tucker. "What d'you mean?" He took a step forward, frowning, then halted as understanding dawned. "You're jealous! You think I've been coming on to that kid on Pushkin." "She is clearly attracted to you." "What if she is? I'm with you. Don't you trust me?" T'Pol hesitated just a moment too long. "Shit, you don't trust me! How the hell can you not trust me? You know I love you, you spend half the time moaning that I give you a headache because I can't control my damned emotions." "I …" "No, you listen to me a minute." Tucker was tired and hurt and had therefore lost his normal tolerance. "Perhaps if you weren't so hung up on keeping our relationship under wraps, you wouldn't have to get jealous. If you'd given me a hug in Engineering, Sarah would have known I'm off limits. But no, Vulcans don't touch and Vulcans don't have aliens lovers and Vulcans certainly don't let chief engineers make love to them until they scream!" "Charles …" "Forget it." He headed for the door. "I'm tired, T'Pol. I'm tired of not being able to hold your hand in public. I'm certainly tired of the hypocrisy. I'm going to bed – by myself, without having to wake up early to sneak out and without really hot sex … because I'm starting to think that's all you want from me." He stormed out leaving T'Pol staring after him in confusion that was brought about as much by his own anger and hurt that were rattling around in her head as by her own. She had thought Charles understood her need for discretion, understood that he could never have her demonstrate her deep attachment in public. She had certainly never anticipated that he would believe her affection stemmed from physical gratification alone. It was deeply satisfying but without affection that satisfaction would not exist and Charles knew that; when he was rational, anyway. It was not her fault that he was unable to sense her emotions through the bond between them, just the pleasure she experienced when they mated. The problem was that he was profoundly stubborn. Having made his point he was very unlikely to back down and T'Pol had no idea how to remedy this breach. The usual solution of going to his cabin, entering his bed and demonstrating her depth of her affection did not seem appropriate. "Captain Dexter," Admiral Forrest's expression was grim even in the less than perfect image produced by the viewer in Archer's ready room, "I'm glad you and your ship survived. I'm deeply sorry for the loss of so many of your crew." The captain barely nodded acknowledgement of the formal expression of official sympathy. "What is Pushkin's current status?" It was Archer who answered when Dexter did not. "We've been able to partially restore warp capability and hull plating. We should be able to get other systems back on-line within the next few days but Commander Tucker informs me that she'll not stand up to hard use without a long layover at Jupiter Station." "Good enough. Captain Archer, Captain Dexter, you are both ordered to return to Earth at Pushkin's best speed. Stay together. Watch each other's backs. Don't stop unless you receive a distress call from one of our own ships and even then clear it with Starfleet before you respond." Archer shifted, not liking that last prohibition one bit. "What's the situation, Admiral?" "Just about as bad as it could be, Jon." Forrest looked sick. "The Klingon Empire is furious. It's broken off all diplomatic relations with Earth government and said that any further hostile acts against Klingon assets will be considered an act of war. It's not looking good." "Hostile acts!" Dexter was finally shaken out of his apathy. "They attacked my ship! Slaughtered my crew!" "We know that, Peter," the man's tone was compassionate, "but it's not the story they're telling. They could have had this planned for a while." "What are the Klingons saying?" Archer asked, although he had a sinking feeling that he knew. "That Pushkin fired on their ship during a peaceful trade mission. They were forced to defend themselves." Neither captain bothered to comment. "You're being recalled to Earth for your own safety but also … because we fear an attack on Earth itself. We want our fastest and most capable ships on hand." "We don't carry heavy armament, admiral," Archer reminded him after a moment's painful silence. "Your weapon systems will be upgraded as soon as you reach us. Until then do what you can for your own defence. God speed. Forrest out." Archer flicked off the screen and went to look out of the viewport, hands braced against the surround. He was damned sure this wasn't what Zephram Cochrane had had in mind, nor his own father either. The mess hall was crowded so it took Reed a while to locate his target but he finally found Tucker eating lunch at a corner table. "Why's it so busy?" the armoury officer asked as he seated himself and dug into the curry on his plate, only then noticing his friend's hostile stare. No wonder the gregarious engineer had had the table to himself. "What's wrong with you?" The only answer was a scowl and Reed sighed. "So who walked out this time?" Tucker shoved his empty plate away and reached for dessert. "Weapons are next on the list. If you'd been around this morning we could of got started already." "I was on Pushkin last night, remember?" Reed poked his fork at the engineer. "I bet you weren't on duty this morning. You were shattered when I saw you." There was again no response and the Englishman sighed; he hated these conversations. "Tell me about it if you have to." The other man grimaced at his serving of apple pie. "What's to tell? I shouted at T'Pol then when I went to apologise she got jealous, I called her a hypocrite and left." "You don't do much else! Are you sure it's worth it, Trip?" For a moment longer, Tucker continued to play with his food then looked up, a rueful smile forming. "Yeah." "You could have fooled me! What were you saying about Pushkin's weapons systems?" T'Pol approached the mess hall table slowly, muscles tightening despite her superior control. How difficult could it be? She had deep feelings for Tucker, he was her friend, her lover. Humans did it all the time and the only one likely to witness her shame was Reed and he already knew. She halted by the table. "Charles." She paused awkwardly as he looked up, startled; she never used his personal name unless they were alone. "May I join you?" He wasn't angry with her anymore but he was definitely wary; she could feel it through the bond between them as well as read it in his eyes. What she would have done if he had refused she didn't know, beyond making a dignified and composed exit, but he nodded and T'Pol slipped carefully into the seat beside him, aware that both men were watching her. Now for the difficult part. She lifted her head to meet Tucker's watchful eyes. "I am sorry. I will try to be less … circumspect," and she raised her hand to brush his cheek in the briefest caress she thought she could get away with and still demonstrate her intent. The surprise on Tucker's face intensified then slid into the familiar look of warmth and love as he smiled – and if he tried to kiss her, she would push him to the floor and walk away. "Thanks. Talk about it later?" She nodded and to her relief he turned immediately back to Reed, his only physical reaction being to clasp her hands where they rested in her lap; that would hopefully go unnoticed. Relieved and suddenly hungry – she had not wished for nourishment that morning – T'Pol appropriated the remains of Tucker's side salad and started eating only to realise that Reed was laughing. "Lieutenant?" "Sorry, sub-commander." He made a less than successful attempt to straighten his expression. "It's just … Do you know that amongst humans, a sure sign that two people are in a relationship is when they help themselves to each other's food without asking?" T'Pol replaced the fork with some alacrity and glared at Tucker who shrugged, mouth twitching. "How was I to know you didn't know that? You do it all the time." "I do not." "You do, actually, sub-commander. I think it's the only reason Trip has salad." Reed's expression sobered abruptly. "Now that you're both here, sirs, don't you find it strange that none of Pushkin's officers survived apart from Captain Dexter?" "A standard military tactic is to eliminate the leaders of the opposing side, thus increasing the probability of a poorly coordinated defence," T'Pol pointed out and resumed eating the salad. The dressing chef had applied was tasty and it was unlikely that anyone else would notice that she had not fetched it herself. "So how did Dexter survive? The captain would be a prime target, surely?" "Perhaps his crew defended him." Enterprise's first officer's tone suggested that she did not find such a course of action entirely logical. "Can you really see Captain Archer letting us get killed while he hid on the bridge?" "No," Tucker said firmly, "but the cap'n's nothing like Dexter. Believe me, I went through a few training runs with him. Not my favourite commanding officer!" "What about the fact that most of Pushkin's officers were killed with phase pistols?" "So the Klingons raided the armoury. Stop being paranoid, Malcolm. Come on, let's go do some work." "I haven't finished!" the other man protested and shovelled more curry into his mouth as Tucker stood up, one hand on T'Pol's shoulder, thumb discreetly caressing the nape of her neck. "See you later?" It required an effort not to shrug off the intimate contact however pleasant it was, but at least he was not being overt with so many strangers around. "Captain Archer expects you in his dining room at 1900." "Yeah, he told me." They both knew that Archer was ensuring his chief engineer didn't pull another long shift. "Come see me beforehand?" She nodded and Tucker smiled tenderly - and briefly. "Malcolm, move your butt." "I still haven't finished!" Reed mumbled through an overlarge mouthful but followed the engineer, picking a tortuous path through the crowded room. "Why is it so busy?" "The galley's still out on Pushkin and Phlox said a meal would do her crew good. Makes sense to me." "Commander Tucker!" Both officers halted as their way was blocked by an eager figure. "Sir, are you going back to Pushkin? Can we join you?" There were several more men and women grouped behind the ensign, all with purple piping on their uniforms. "Sure," Tucker agreed readily, always up for extra help when there was a mountain of problems still to be fixed, "as long as Phlox has passed you all fit." "He has, sir," the young woman promised, "and we all want to get home." "Fine." Tucker produced a rueful grin as he surveyed the group of faces that ranged from familiar to completely unknown. "I guess I met most of you yesterday but I wasn't functioning too well." He was leading the way down the corridor towards the shuttle bay. "We'd better go through the introductions again." Following the group of newly converted Tucker fans, Reed sighed heavily. People always liked the engineer – even some Vulcans – while they tended to ignore Malcolm. Terribly unfair when being a tactical officer meant that you had a sound grasp of engineering principals as well as first class strategic knowledge. Take that remarkably pretty blonde girl. She was the one Tucker had discovered in Pushkin's Engineering compartment and she obviously had a huge crush on him and no idea that he was already in a relationship. Now if only Malcolm had found her instead of Klingon warriors, she could have been as grateful as she liked because he was entirely available and pretty fed up that his best friend was quite possibly getting as much … "Malcolm!" Irritated, Reed pulled out of his brooding to find Tucker looked expectantly at him. "What?" "I said, why don't you take Ensign Rommel here and go inspect the plasma feeds to the phase cannons. Power's not getting through but diagnostics can't locate the fault." "All right." Gloomily, Reed inspected the young woman who was still gazing hopefully at Tucker. Nice of Trip to think of him but Malcolm was more likely to be subjected to a barrage of questions about the engineer than to be able to make a move on his own behalf. Life was so unfair. It was after 1800 when T'Pol checked that the corridor was clear then let herself quickly into Tucker's cabin. Just because the entire crew believed that their Vulcan first officer had taken the chief engineer as her lover was no reason at all, in her unalterable opinion, to be anything other than discreet. Unfortunately, however, Tucker was not home. T'Pol gazed around in well-concealed disappointment. They frequently met after their shift to talk – or in Tucker's case, to complain about whatever had gone wrong that day – and he should have been here. She wanted to be kissed and, for preference, cuddled as well following their disagreement the previous evening. The reaction was illogical but she had entirely given up trying to apply logic to her relationship with Tucker; it was far less frustrating to simply accept that he brought out the worst in her and to ensure that her sentiment never affected her professional behaviour. That illogic was, of course, why she did not immediately leave but began to pick up the clothing from the floor, folding it neatly into the laundry basket, and distastefully ushering the remains of their meal from several days before out into the corridor where a steward could find it. Tucker was, as she had frequently observed, grossly untidy, but this time he could be forgiven; housework had not been high on anyone's priority list for the last few days. The engineer did not arrive for at least half an hour, by which time T'Pol had finished arranging his cabin in a more systematic manner and was curled up on the freshly made bed, reading a book she had discovered under the mattress. She could not comprehend why Charles felt the need to conceal the fact that he read even if it was often distressingly banal pseudo-criminal human-based fiction. ‘Malcolm would never let me hear the last of it' had made even less sense than his normal explanations. Tucker halted abruptly at the sight of her, then glanced suspiciously around at the neatness. "Hey." He sounded doubtful. "Been here long?" "Yes." He noted her pained expression and grimaced, beginning to strip off his sweat-soaked uniform. "I guess a hug isn't on offer until I've cleaned up." "Indeed! What have you been doing?" "Trying to get those damned phase cannons working. Environmental controls are still out on Pushkin." Tucker threw a damp undershirt in the vague direction of the laundry bin and peeled off an even wetter vest. "Engineering's hot as hell and the bridge is freezing." He noticed T'Pol's interested appraisal and grinned. "Wanna join me?" "We do not have time." "Spoil sport." He disappeared into the small bathroom, still talking, knowing that T'Pol could hear him over the sound of running water. "Sorry I'm late. Phlox must have released Dexter from sickbay. I've spent the last hour trying to make him understand why Pushkin's not all fixed up yet." T'Pol didn't bother trying to reply. Tucker wouldn't be able to distinguish her voice; sometimes she wondered if that was why he did it. "That man's a real pain in the butt. You'd think he'd be grateful the cap'n didn't just blow Pushkin's warp core and get clear. He was even real nasty to his own crew and they've been gusting a gut." He emerged from the bathroom, a towel round his hips, and dropped onto the bed beside T'Pol, reaching out for her and scowling as she still held him away. "Now what?" "You are wet." "So? You like me wet." "Not when we are due in the captain's dining room in fifteen minutes. I do not have time to change." "Dry me then." She gave him a repressive look but pulled the towel up to rub his chest, looking severely at his smirk. "Do not consider this an invitation." "Why not?" Considering himself sufficiently dried, he pulled her down to lie beside him and began to kiss her. T'Pol could feel his intent as her body responded with some enthusiasm and pulled back reluctantly. "We do not have time." "For a kiss?" The blue eyes were innocent and as a punishment she ran her hands slowly over his shoulders and down his chest, feeling his pleasure in the sensuous caress. "That was not your meaning." "Mm, maybe not. Think the cap'n'll mind if we skip dinner?" "Yes." "Yeah, me too. Dexter's not gonna be there, is he?" "I do not know." "Hell, I hope not. I've had enough of that guy for one day." T'Pol felt Tucker's muscles tense and stroked his shoulders again. He sighed and wriggled onto his front. "Rub my back?" She knelt over him and began to run her hands firmly over the smooth skin from waist to neck, drawing forth a muffled groan. "You have known Captain Dexter long?" Strange that they had both encountered the man and both disliked him. "Couple of years before Enterprise was launched. We were all in training together." "You did not get on." "He tried to block my appointment to Enterprise." T'Pol raised an eyebrow. That was certainly enough to rouse Tucker to fury. "For what reason?" "He said Jon and I were too close. In fact," the muscles were tensing again even with warm hands soothing them, "he got real offensive." "Captain Archer did not mention a problem." "Why should he? Forrest didn't buy it or I wouldn't be here now." Tucker sighed and shifted onto his side. "You better stop that, darling, or we'll be here all night." He hugged her tightly. "I meant to talk about us, not old history." "There will be time later." "Yeah, I guess." He pressed his face into her neck. "I love you, T'Pol, even when I call you names." "You must get dressed." She was not released. "Can't you for once say you love me?" "You know I do." "Yeah. It's just …" "Charles, get dressed." He held her a moment longer then untangled himself to begin the hunt for clean clothes. "I will undress you later, if you wish." He threw her a laughing look. "I've no objection, honey, but didn't your mom ever tell you there's more to a relationship than sex?" "She never mentioned the matter." Dark eyes slid approvingly over Tucker's muscled body. "I believe she views physical intimacy with distaste." "No kidding?" He pulled up his jumpsuit and came to pull her up and lead her to the door. "Can't say I ever noticed you suffering from that problem, darling. All right if I hold your hand in the corridor?" "No." "T'Pol!" "We are on duty." "No, we're not! The cap'n's dinners are informal." "We are in uniform." "So? I thought you were gonna be less hung up in public." The argument continued all the way to the mess hall. Out of courtesy, Archer met Dexter when his fellow captain returned to Enterprise from his tour of Pushkin then wondered if it had been a good idea as he had to listen to the man sounding off about the failure to get his ship's performance up to standard. It was only the sight of Dexter's pale, strained face and the arm still strapped across his chest that kept Archer's reply moderate. "Pete, I know you've been through hell but that's uncalled for." He met the other's glare calmly. "My engineering team and yours have worked their butts off to save Pushkin. If they hadn't, I'd have been forced to sacrifice her." "You'd have destroyed my ship to keep your own safe?" "You know I would. You'd have done the same; it comes with the job." Archer took the other man's sound arm to lead him into the mess hall. "Now take a break." He managed to keep the conversation neutral for the few minutes they waited for T'Pol and Tucker to join them although it was an effort - there wasn't a lot on anyone's mind except Klingons – but the arrival of his two most senior officers didn't improve matters. In fact, things went down hill rapidly from the moment he began to introduce his first officer. "I know T'Pol." Dexter interrupted and directed a frankly appraising look at the Vulcan woman. "It's been a while." She returned his gaze coolly although Tucker frowned, feeling a faint niggle at the back of his head; that didn't normally happen unless he was in extremely intimate contact with T'Pol and it certainly wasn't pleasure his lover was feeling at the moment. "That it hardly surprising, Captain Dexter, when I have been on Enterprise for the last three years." He sneered a little and turned back to Archer. "I don't know how you stand it, Jon, having her breathing down your neck and reporting your every move to the Vulcan High Command." "T'Pol's a fine officer." Archer's voice was firm. "We've all been grateful for her contribution and I've never had any cause to question her loyalty. Now let's eat." Before the main course was removed, Tucker had moved from tired to exhausted from the barrage of questions that Dexter directed at him, mostly repeating issues they had already covered. Even the efforts of Archer and T'Pol to divert the conversation weren't enough to protect him and Tucker finally gave in to frustration. "I don't know, Captain Dexter!" He pushed his half eaten meal away from him, too tense to eat. "Pushkin's phase cannons are fused solid. We'd have to drop out of warp for a couple hours to un-jam them and even then I don't reckon you'd get the full range of fire. So I don't know when you'll have full capability restored." "Commander Bester …" "Is dead. You got me and I can't fix it. Satisfied?" "Trip." Archer shot his chief engineer a stern look before he looked over at Dexter. "We've been through this before, Pete. If Commander Tucker says Pushkin's too badly damaged to be fixed in space then you'll have to accept his judgement, just as I always do." The dark haired man scowled. "You should never have let friendship affect your judgement, Jon. He was never up to the job." "That's crap and you know it." Archer was angry himself although he didn't show it. If either he or Tucker lost their tempers it would be a victory for Dexter and however much sympathy he might currently feel for Pushkin's captain, it didn't extend to allowing the man to vent his grief by striking out at everyone around him. "T'Pol," firmly committed this time to changing the subject Archer turned to the woman, only then noticing that the look she had fixed on Dexter was almost as angry as Tucker's. Never a good sign when his unflappable first officer got angry. "T'Pol, were you able to contact the Vulcan High Command?" "Yes." Archer sighed. Not the time to be difficult, T'Pol. "And, sub-commander?" Finally she turned to face him. "All non-essential diplomatic personnel and any other Vulcan citizens currently posted to Earth have been ordered to withdraw." He shook his head in sorrow. "So the Vulcans aren't hopeful of a peaceful solution." "The Klingon Empire is not renowned for peaceful solutions." "What about you, T'Pol?" She met Archer's gaze steadily, anger now well hidden. "I was advised to leave Enterprise at the earliest opportunity." "And will you?" He hoped he knew the answer. With the situation so bad, he didn't want to lose his first officer, nor did he want a broken hearted chief engineer on his hands. It might be both logical and safe for T'Pol to leave, but it would feel like abandonment to both him and Tucker. "The Vulcan High Command is becoming inured to my decisions." Archer smiled warmly back, seeing Tucker's quick sigh of relief out of the corner of his eye, but Dexter scowled. "Typical Vulcan! Can't give a straight answer. Run at the first sign of trouble." "I think you'll find that T'Pol just said she was staying," Archer pointed out but the other captain was barely listening. "So the Vulcans'll leave us to defend Earth by ourselves, will they? Not lift a finger to help their allies?" "It was not Vulcan who provoked this hostility." "We didn't provoke it!" Dexter was leaning across the table, almost shouting into T'Pol's face. "They fired on my ship." "There must have been some reason for the attack." "There wasn't!" The Australian made some effort to moderate his tone as he turned to Archer. "We have to be ready to fight, Jon, to defend Earth. To wipe the bastards out if necessary. We can't lose this war." "We're not at war yet, Pete." Archer's voice was quiet. "I'd like to think it's avoidable." "It's not. You saw what they did to my crew! We can't share the galaxy with animals like that." Archer saw Tucker shift uncomfortably then look up at Dexter, expressive face bleak. "I joined Starfleet to explore the galaxy, not to fight it. Are we really gonna go down the route of destroying what we can't understand? I thought we were supposed to have grown out of that." "So what would you have us do, Commander Tucker?" There was a good deal of contempt on the rank. "Let them exterminate us?" "I'll fight if I have to," Tucker was keeping his temper for once, despite the slur on his courage and the definite feel of anger not his own at the back of his head, "but I agree with Cap'n Archer. I don't see why it has to be inevitable." "If asked, Vulcan would almost certainly be prepared to mediate," T'Pol suggested but Dexter made a gesture of flat denial with his uninjured arm. "Mediate what? A settlement that restricts us to one small area of space? That'd suit the Vulcans right down to the ground." The look T'Pol turned on the human matched anything he had produced in terms of contempt. "Perhaps that would make the galaxy a safer place for the rest of us." She rose, turning to Archer. "Captain, if you will excuse us, Charles is tired and I wish to ensure that he has adequate rest." Archer struggled to keep a straight face even as he nodded permission, although Tucker's shock at T'Pol's unprecedented lapse into informality was almost too much for him, and he had to smile when the Vulcan woman took a firm grip on the engineer's hand as he followed her to the door. "Good night, sub-commander, commander." Now what had that been about? He got the answer when he turned to find Dexter staring at the door, a look of fury on his handsome face. "She … that Vulcan bitch … and Tucker?" "They're lovers," Archer confirmed coolly, not liking the other man's description, "and very good friends. They have been for quite some time." "And you let them?" "They keep it off duty." Tucker had done that better than he had hoped, probably because of T'Pol's stern glares if he forgot himself. Archer certainly wouldn't be mentioning to Dexter that Trip tended to become frantic if an away team with T'Pol in it got into trouble, nor that her captain had been forced to firmly reject his first officer's enthusiastic support for one of Reed's more violent schemes when Tucker had been kidnapped a few months before. Dexter rose to his feet, expression twisted. "I'm going back to Pushkin." "Fine." Archer's tone was bland. "I'll have someone escort you to a shuttle pod," and he continued to sit as Dexter stamped out, glowering. Continued in Part Three -- Stephen Ratliff ASC Stories Only Forwarding In the Pattern Buffer at: http//trekiverse.crosswinds.net/feed/ Yahoo! Groups Links To visit your group on the web, go to:http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ASCL/ To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:ASCL-unsubscribe@yahoogroups.com Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo! Terms of Service. From ???@??? Thu Jan 08 00:00:02 2004 Status: U Return-Path: Received: from n30.grp.scd.yahoo.com ([66.218.66.87]) by vulture (EarthLink SMTP Server) with SMTP id 1aEsis5Pb3NZFl50 for ; Wed, 7 Jan 2004 21:01:27 -0800 (PST) X-eGroups-Return: sentto-1977044-12868-1073538063-stephenbratliff=earthlink.net@returns.groups.yahoo.