Work Text:
T’Pol had experienced a vivid sense of déjà vu several times in the eighteen - almost nineteen - years since T’Mir’s birth, and it was with a profound sense of both gratitude and relief that she knew it would be the last. This was the final memory T’Mir had shared. This was the last tantalising glimpse of the incredible young woman who would send a portion of her katra through time in an intriguing and beautiful puzzle box, so that her mother could feel ready for parenthood, and bring her into the world.
“Mekina, I promise I’ll be fine. Daddy gave me the grand tour, Uncle Jon is just over the bridge if I need him, and I can always call you on subspace. Auntie Hoshi said she’ll fight the Klingons herself if they destroy another buoy, and you know she will!”
T’Pol tucked a lock of hair behind T’Mir’s ear, trying to look happy for her daughter and almost succeeding. “I am proud of you, but I will miss you,” she said earnestly.
“I’ll miss you too, Mummy. But you’re an Admiral, so if you want to come and visit there aren’t too many people who can stop you. And even if they try, I’m pretty sure Uncle Jon will just tell them off anyway.”
T’Pol smirked. “When did you get to be so wise?” she asked fondly.
“Mmmm, some time between when I was born and now,” T’Mir answered cheekily, sounding almost exactly like Trip.
A small chuckle escaping her, T’Pol pulled her daughter close for a hug. “Use that wisdom wisely,” she said softly.
“Use your wisdom to wreak havoc!” Trip said with a grin as he entered the dorm room with the final load of bags.
T’Mir grabbed his arm once it was no longer laden, and pulled him over to join them. He wrapped his arms around the two women he loved most, resting his head on T’Mir’s shoulder.
“Be good most of the time, don’t get into any trouble you can’t get back out of, and make the most of every opportunity they offer you that catches even a fragment of your interest. It’s better to try something and know it’s not for you, than to spend your life wondering about what ifs. And for the love of all the stars, your parents, and Uncle Malcolm, please don’t tell anyone you’ve known how to fire a phase cannon since you were three.”
T’Mir laughed. “I promise to keep all the family secrets, don’t worry.”
“I love you baby girl. Now, we have to go before they send security in to drag us out, but we’ll talk over comms every chance we get,” Trip said before kissing her cheek.
T’Pol kissed the other, and T’Mir kissed their cheeks in turn, tears welling in her eyes.
With her parents gone, T’Mir sat on the bed and heaved a deep breath. Being the daughter of an admiral had some advantages, but she wasn’t entirely convinced that private quarters was one of them. Being the only known surviving Vulcan-Human hybrid, her anatomy differed from those of her ancestors, which made the lack of awkward questions an advantage of privacy. Part of her longed for a bunkmate to be nervous with though, and she looked around the room, considering the bare walls. A star chart would do quite well on the wall by the bunk. Photos of her family on the opposite wall would fill the space to either side of the bathroom door. The Academy would surely offer things to take up the remaining blank space. It would look and feel like home soon enough.
“Do you think she’ll be alright?” T’Pol asked as she and Trip walked through the grounds of the Academy together.
“I have no doubt that she will, because she’s our daughter,” Trip said confidently. “She’s as strong-willed as both of us, has my sense of humour, and your logic. She can’t go wrong with that combination.”
Clearly concerned, T’Pol’s brows furrowed further. “She has led such a sheltered life, in some respects.”
Laughing, Trip shook his head. “She’s dealt with Klingons being Klingons, experienced Orion pheromone nonsense, visited more alien worlds than anyone her age, visited every Earth colony, half a dozen Vulcan ones, and spent time with family on both the Vulcan homeworld and Earth. In what way is T’Mir sheltered?”
“She has spent almost her entire life surrounded by people who love her,” T’Pol said. “Now she is amongst strangers.”
“As she said though, if she needs anything urgently she’s got her Uncle Jon just the other side of the bridge. And you know Shran and Talas will go after anyone who upsets her, while Jhamel brokers peace.”
T’Pol nodded. “I wish she would have at least one friend there though. It is a shame Talla decided not to pursue Starfleet.”
Shrugging, Trip stopped and pulled T’Pol into a gentle embrace. “It’s also good for her to find her independence - to make her own friends, without our influence. She can’t become that incredible young woman who sends her katra to you if she never flies the nest.”
“Is that her?” whispered one cadet.
“Starfleet Baby? I think so, yeah,” said another.
A third cadet looked at T’Mir with an obviously assessing gaze, not realising she was aware of the group’s observation. “She doesn't look that impressive.”
Scoffing, the first remarked, “she doesn’t look old enough to be here.”
“I assure you, I turned eighteen last year,” T’Mir called from where she sat eating her lunch, offering a small smile. “Also you should probably be made aware that I inherited my mother’s ears not only in shape, but sensitivity. I can hear every word you’re saying at this distance.”
“Freaky little half-breed,” one cadet muttered, and the group moved away.
Sitting in class learning about the colony worlds of Earth, T’Mir frowned at the image displayed on the main screen of the lecture hall, and raised her hand.
“Miss Tucker. You have a question?” the professor enquired.
“Forgive me for interrupting sir, but the Terra Nova colony no longer looks like that.”
Surprised by the statement, the professor said, “I beg your pardon?”
Gesturing to the screen, T’Mir said, “that’s an old image, taken by the NX-01 Enterprise back in twenty-one-fifty-one. The colony looks absolutely nothing like that now.”
“And how would you know that, Miss Tucker?” the professor asked, brows raised.
“The Constellation visited last year, and I helped Commander Sh’aviakrass to take detailed scans. The images should be on file if you search for them,” T’Mir explained. “That old image is the ruins of the original colony. The new colony is on the southern continent, partially above and partially below ground - much like the town of Coober Pedy in Australia, though for different reasons.”
The professor tapped at the computer terminal for a moment, and new images came up on the screen. “Would you care to tell the class what else you know of the colony?”
Nodding with a smile, T’Mir descended the stairs to join the professor, using the microphone carefully.
“The residents of Terra Nova colony call themselves Novans. Until Enterprise visited, they did not realise they too were Human - they believed that people of Earth were the enemy, having killed their parents and elders during their childhoods. The sad truth is that a meteor impacted the planet, with toxic minerals eventually leaching into the groundwater. Enterprise helped the surviving colonists with moving to the southern continent, where the water was still fresh, and their preferred animal for eating was readily available. Novans are still somewhat wary of most people from Earth, but the senior staff of Enterprise - who also formed much of the senior staff on both Endeavour and Constellation - are considered trusted allies, as is the cargo ship Horizon, due to a family connection. I visited the colony a few times throughout my childhood, but our most recent visit was the first time I was able to participate in scanning to ensure their continued well-being.”
“Thank you, Miss Tucker. I see that the curriculum needs something of an update on this subject,” the professor said.
“I’m sure my parents would be happy to provide you with any information you might need,” T’Mir said with a smile, then climbed the stairs to resume her seat.
“She’s such an insufferable know-it-all!” one cadet muttered as they left the lecture hall.
“She thinks she knows everything about everything. Stars forbid the professors have the opportunity to teach a single lesson without her interjecting,” another agreed.
A third sighed heavily. “If she already knows so much, why is she even here?”
Taking a deep and steadying breath to channel her mother rather than her father, T’Mir said, “I’m perfectly aware that I don’t know everything. I simply have knowledge that many here lack - including our professors - because I had the good fortune of growing up on Endeavour and Constellation, and they did not. I’d be more than happy to share my experiences with you, if you cease being so rude whenever you think I’m out of earshot.”
“Can’t you ever just be normal?” the first cadet asked.
“Define ‘normal’,” T’Mir challenged. “Typical behaviour for a Human is very different to typical behaviour for a Vulcan, and I am both. There is no typical behaviour for a Vulcan-Human hybrid, because to the best of our knowledge, I am the only one to have survived infancy. My sister may have been like me, had Terra Prime combined her DNA more effectively, but I will never know.”
Spinning on her heel T’Mir stalked away, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
“T’Mir! Is everything alright?” Hoshi asked when the connection established.
“Not exactly, Auntie Hoshi,” T’Mir said quietly. “You were a language prodigy. How did you cope with being different from your peers, and with hearing things they said behind your back when they underestimated how sensitive your hearing is?”
Hoshi gave a sympathetic smile, then leaned closer to the monitor as though sharing a secret. “I kicked their butts in physical training sessions. I wasn’t just a language prodigy, I had a black belt in Aikido - so I used it. Once they’d all been handed their asses a few times they learned not to mess with me. And then they realised I could also help them, and they chose to be kinder.”
Sighing, T’Mir said, “should I keep telling the professors things that are wrong in the curriculum, or leave it be?”
“Tell your Uncle Jon, if telling your professors directly is causing you problems,” Hoshi said. “He’d know the right people to contact so it gets updated properly, without you having to be put in that position.”
“That’s a good idea. Thank you, Auntie Hoshi,” T’Mir said with another sigh. “I knew I was going to stand out, but this is not quite what I expected.”
Nodding, Hoshi said, “you’ve been surrounded by people who love you your whole life. And you will be again - just give them a chance to realise how amazing you are. And if they keep being assholes, tell your Uncle Shran. He always needs a new hobby, and scaring the pants off your bullies would be a fun little trip over the bridge for him.”
T’Mir laughed, shaking her head. “I want them to be kinder, not to have their throats slit!”
“Well then, show those dummies the T’Mir we all know and love, and I bet they’ll come around,” Hoshi said with a smile. “Did you want to talk to your parents while you’re on the line?”
“No, Mekina will worry,” T’Mir said quietly. “Give me a couple of weeks to sort these dummies out, and we’ll see what happens.”
At her weekly dinner with Jon, Shran, Talas, Jhamel, and Talla, T’Mir narrowed her eyes at Jon, and he recognised T’Pol’s influence.
“I get the impression you’re not very happy about something, T’Mir,” he said lightly.
“I am not, Uncle Jon,” she said firmly, “and Auntie Hoshi said you may be part of the solution.”
Shran chuckled, antennae twitching. “What are you dumping on his already mountainous to-do pile?”
Sitting straight-backed in her chair, T’Mir said, “I have been at the Academy a month, and so far I have needed to correct my professors more than a dozen times, due to out-of-date information in the curriculum. The worst by far was Terra Nova colony, but the others should have been corrected also.”
“What did they say about Terra Nova?” Jon asked curiously.
“They still had your old scans from Enterprise,” T’Mir said with a significant look. “The professor was quite happy for me to help him correct the error, but I should not have needed to! How can we ever hope for the Novans to trust Earthers if we don’t even teach Starfleet cadets correct information about them?!”
Eyes wide, Jon stood and collected a PADD, offering it to T’Mir. “Make a list of everything you’ve had to correct, and I will yell at people first thing in the morning. If anything else comes up, you send me a message right away. I can’t believe they’re teaching information that’s more than two decades out of date, that’s not good enough.”
Nodding, T’Mir said, “that’s what I thought! My classmates think I’m an insufferable know-it-all because I keep correcting things, but we’re supposed to be the future of space exploration! How can we do that properly if we don’t know the truth about the people we’ll encounter out there?”
“Are you being bullied, T’Mir?” Shran asked ominously, picking up on the comment she’d made regarding her classmates attitudes.
“Yes,” she answered flatly. “Auntie Hoshi gave me advice about that too, and if the first part doesn’t work, your new hobby will be scaring the pants off them,” she added with a smirk.
With a savage grin, Talas said, “I will happily help with that.”
Antennae flexing back and forth, Jhamel said, “but first, we shall try diplomacy, yes?”
“Actually first I’m going to kick their butts on the training mats,” T’Mir said, becoming more like her usual animated self. “I know five different martial arts from Earth, Vulcan, and Andoria, I know Uncle Malcolm’s favourite Klingon moves, and my hybrid anatomy gives me strength that’s far superior to all of my classmates, while looking like they could flatten me. So I am going to teach them a valuable lesson.”
“Which lesson is that?” Talla asked eagerly.
Sounding very much like her father, T’Mir said, “nobody messes with a Tucker.”
Chuckling, Jon asked, “and the second part?”
“I let them get to know the T’Mir you all know and love. And if that doesn’t work, then I call Uncle Shran and Auntie Talas in to do some threatening, and Auntie Jhamel to mediate once they’re scared enough to sit down and actually listen.”
“I wish I could be there to see you kick their butts,” Talas said wistfully. “Can you record it?”
Laughing, T’Mir said, “I don’t think so, but if I can get footage I’ll be sure to send it to you.”
“Hello T’Mir,” Malcolm said warmly. “Have things settled down since you spoke with Hoshi?”
“I knew she’d tell you!” T’Mir said with a grin. “Do Toru and Yoshiko know too?”
Chuckling, Malcolm nodded. “We didn’t tell them directly, but they’ve since asked if you’d kicked your bullies butts yet, so clearly they heard at least part of it when she told me. Their hearing may not be quite as sensitive as yours, but it’s certainly better than mine.”
With a teasing smirk that reminded him strongly of Trip, she asked, “have too many explosions damaged your hearing, Uncle Malcolm?”
“That’s something I may need to ask Doctor Phlox about,” he said with a surprised look. “I’m amazed nobody else has ever suggested it, even jokingly.”
“Should I send the bill for my consultation fee over subspace?” T’Mir asked with a grin.
Chuckling, Malcolm asked, “what’s the going rate for the advice of Cadet T’Mir Tucker?”
Tapping her chin as she pretended to contemplate, she answered, “for something small like this, two good hugs ought to cover it.”
“Very reasonable,” Malcolm said with a nod. “Now, what’s the answer to my question?”
“Things have settled down nicely,” T’Mir replied with a smile. “I kicked everyone’s butts in one session, and then taught them your favourite Klingon moves in the next. They seem to respect me a lot better now.”
Smiling proudly, Malcolm said, “that’s my niece! Kicking arse and taking names.”
With a devilish grin, T’Mir said, “just wait until we get to training with weapons, and I’m already a crack shot.”
“You make sure you tell them who taught you!” he said with a laugh.
“Oh I will,” she said with a wink. “I’ll just skip the part where I was three at the time.”
A few weeks later, T’Mir received a call via subspace, and was greeted by a group sitting together in Constellation’s conference lounge.
“Uncle Travis, Untee Ishry, Auntie Amanda, Auntie Avramia, Auntie T’Pen, Uncle Khonn, Auntie Maharukh! What are you all doing together?” T’Mir asked.
“You get so little time to talk over subspace, we wanted to make the most of it,” Travis said. “How are things going now?”
Chuckling, T’Mir said, “things are going really well. They realised Starfleet Baby isn’t just a know-it-all who likes showing off, she’s a know-it-all who likes sharing what she knows! We get to visit one of the ships in orbit next week - we don’t know which one yet - and I told them we need to visit the Sweet Spot. Most of them didn’t even know it was a thing, so they’re pretty excited to experience the gravity shift!”
Grinning, Ishry asked, “and will you show them how to not hit their heads?”
“A month ago I wouldn’t have told them about it at all, just gone there and anyone who followed me could find out when they bonked their noggin on the bulkhead,” T’Mir said with a grin. “Now… yeah, I’ll show them how to do it right. I don’t want to undo all my hard work getting them to like me!”
Chatting with the group until her time ran out, T’Mir smiled when the call ended, and nodded to herself, satisfied that her Constellation family were all doing as well as she was.
“How is my favourite granddaughter faring at the Academy?” Soval asked in Vulcan when they met for lunch a fortnight later.
“I’m faring well,” T’Mir answered in Vulcan, grateful for the opportunity to practice. “But do Talla, Toru and Yoshiko know that I’m your favourite?”
Puzzled, Soval quirked a brow. “I was not aware that I was grandfather to Talla, Toru, and Yoshiko.”
Shrugging, T’Mir said, “they call you Grandpa Soval - they always have.”
“But do they call me that because they consider me their grandfather, or because that is what you call me?” Soval asked.
“They call you that even when they’re not talking to me about you, so I always figured you were their Grandpa too!” T’Mir said, clearly as surprised by the fact that this was news to Soval as Soval was by the news.
Contemplating this for a moment, Soval said, “if that is the case, I have been a rather poor grandfather to them, and the favouritism must be rather glaring.”
Scoffing, T’Mir shook her head. “You always send them birthday presents, and talk to them kindly when you visit, and teach them anything you teach me. And even if you weren’t a perfect Grandpa to them because you didn’t know, you’re still a much better Grandpa than Bonehead Reed.”
“is that the politely insulting nickname for Mister Stuart Reed?” Soval enquired.
“It is!” T’Mir said with a grin.
Brow arched as high as it could go, Soval said, “if that is the standard by which I am being measured, I believe I deserve a gold star on my homework.”
Laughing, T’Mir patted Soval gently on the sleeve of his robes. “Let’s eat our food, and then you can write a letter to find out for sure if you’re their Grandpa, or just mine.”
With the passing of the following month, T’Mir received a call from another member of her Constellation family.
“Hello Uncle Phlox!” she said happily. “And hello Batty!” she crooned, realising the Pyrithian bat was seated on Phlox’s shoulder. “How are you both?”
“I believe Batty may be missing you just as much as I am - perhaps even more so,” Phlox said. “Yoshiko has needed to increase the frequency of her visits to compensate for your absence, as only the two of you - and your Aunt Hoshi who trained you both - give satisfying scritches. I am but a poor substitute - satisfactory at providing meals on time, and not much else.”
Shaking her head, T’Mir sighed and said, “oh, Batty.”
Smiling, Phlox said, “all is well, I am quite used to it at this point. Now, how are you enjoying your time on Earth?”
“It’s still weird being on a planet for this long,” T’Mir said with a slight frown. “Not hearing the engines is spooky.”
“You are your father’s daughter, of that there can be no doubt,” Phlox said with a chuckle. “He has never slept well when the engines are not operational.”
Grinning, T’Mir said, “Enterprise’s engines were his first baby, so that’s not terribly surprising.”
With a smile, Phlox nodded. “And he has always been an excellent father.”
“I’m… going to have to go, Uncle Phlox,” T’Mir said with a concerned frown. “I’m getting a notification about a priority transmission coming through.”
“By all means go!” Phlox said. “But do send me a note to let me know all is well, if you can?”
T’Mir nodded. “I will. Talk soon, love to all!”
Terminating the call to Phlox and connecting the priority channel, T’Mir was furious to be faced with Section 31 Agent Harris.
“Agent,” T’Mir said disdainfully. “You should know that you interrupted a family call, and I do not take kindly to my limited use of subspace communications being co-opted by people I have absolutely zero desire to speak with.”
“And you, Cadet Tucker, should know that I will not be refused,” Harris replied.
Finger visibly poised over the button to terminate the call, T’Mir said, “I told you ‘no’ on my eighteenth birthday, I told you ‘no’ the day I signed up for the Academy, I told you ‘no’ when you found me in the grounds here, I am telling you ‘no’ now, and I will continue telling you ‘no’ for the rest of your pathetic, miserable, misguided life.”
Brows raised, Harris said, “don’t you mean for the rest of your life?”
“I am decades younger than you, I am half-Vulcan, I have the combined stubbornness of both my parents, and I am far from immune to taking actions purely out of spite. The odds of you out-surviving me are slimmer than a sheet of graphene. So no, I did not mean the remainder of my far more joyful life, I meant precisely what I said,” T’Mir retorted, then stabbed the button to disconnect the call.
After sending a quick “I’m fine, nobody’s ill or injured” message to Phlox, she then sat thinking about how best to proceed, eventually deciding on a course of action that many would consider reckless, and others might consider logical.
“Today I am ceding the floor to Cadet T’Mir Tucker,” Andre Michels, professor of chemistry announced. “This lecture will not relate to your usual course of study, but I believe it to be a matter of great import, and encourage you all to remain in attendance for the duration.”
T’Mir stepped up to the dais and nodded seriously. “Thank you, Professor.” Turning her attention to the lecture hall, she let out a huff of breath and addressed her classmates.
“My fellow cadets, I will ask you all to please turn your attention to the PADDs on your desks, and read the highlighted portion of the document they contain - Starfleet Charter: Article 14, Section 31.”
Stunned, it took many of the cadets a moment to follow the instruction, but read it they did. When all eyes looked once more to T’Mir, it was with a sense of great expectation.
“Cadets, there is an organisation utilising that section of the Starfleet Charter. They behave as they see fit - ostensibly in the best interests of the Federation, but with no oversight to ensure that they are held accountable for their actions.”
Pressing a button on the computer terminal, she displayed an image of Agent Harris.
“This man is a Section 31 agent known as Harris - I have no idea whether or not that is his true name. He has attempted on numerous occasions to recruit me into the organisation, and thus far has not accepted my repeated refusals. Some day he may tire of hearing me say ‘no’, and try to recruit one or more of you. You need to be prepared for that eventuality. You need to decide for yourselves whether you feel it is right that these people behave outside, beyond, and above the law, and whether or not you find it right to join them. Consent is only consent if it is informed. So be informed - and inform others in turn. Thank you.”
With lectures being routinely recorded and available for repeated viewing via computer terminals, it took only a matter of hours for the entire Academy to be in an uproar over T’Mir’s speech. Those with family and friends already in the fleet soon shared it wider still, and in less than two days it had reached Constellation, Starfleet Headquarters, and the Vulcan Embassy. Constellation returned to Earth as swiftly as a warp seven engine with Trip coaxing it to maximum efficiency could bring them, and T’Mir was beamed aboard along with Jon, Shran, and Soval.
Concerned parents were pushed aside as Malcolm swept past both Trip and T’Pol to pull T’Mir into a fierce hug. “Oh, you brilliant, incredible, fearless girl,” he sobbed into her shoulder. “You’ve done as a fresh cadet what I could not, even as a seasoned lieutenant. I have never been more proud of you.”
“What do you mean, Uncle Malcolm?” T’Mir asked softly, squeezing him carefully.
“I’d like to know the answer to that too,” Trip muttered.
After steadying herself for a moment, T’Pol said, “perhaps we should make our way to the conference lounge.”
Gathered around the long table with T’Mir at its head, her parents to either side of her, and the senior staff, Jon, Shran and Soval taking the remaining seats, Trip said, “right, Malcolm - explain what you said to T’Mir.”
“T’Mir’s speech has accomplished something which I thought would never occur,” Malcolm said softly. “I didn’t have the fortitude to do it even after years or serving that organisation. T’Mir managed to not only refuse recruitment multiple times, but to then expose the Section for what they are.”
“Wait, you’re saying this is real?” Trip asked incredulously. “Section 31 genuinely exists, and is actually this clandestine back-alley stabbing-in-the-dark surreptitious intelligence organisation?”
Malcolm nodded. “Not only is it real, I worked for them prior to joining Enterprise. I even worked with Harris a couple of times while serving aboard Enterprise.”
Sighing, Jon said, “it’s true, Trip. I dealt with Harris a couple of times myself. He’s a nasty piece of work, and T’Mir has more guts than I do, standing up to him the way she has.”
“Perhaps it is time for people of highly respected rank to join T’Mir in speaking out,” Soval suggested. “One cadet can be dismissed, no matter her status and fame. But the most senior admiral, and most highly decorated tactical officer in the fleet lending credence to her claims - that would be far more difficult to dismiss, and may encourage others to come forward.”
“You’re right,” Jon said softly. “I’ve always hoped I’d never need the fleet-wide setting on the comms panel, but this seems as good a reason as any to use it. At least it’s not a declaration of war.”
Clearly concerned, Malcolm said, “but it is, sir. We’re declaring war against the Section, and they might very well kill us for it.”
Eyes narrowed and antennae pointed, Shran asked, “Do you want your children becoming adults in a society that accepts the actions of this organisation, or one which abhors them?”
“Flick the bloody switch,” Malcolm said, immediately resolute.
Back at the Academy T’Mir became known to the entire student body, and everywhere she went there was a sense of being encircled - protected by her peers from a foe they had not even known existed a week prior.
“It goes against all our ideals,” was a frequent refrain, and T’Mir smiled each time she heard it.
One evening she received a communication, and smirked to herself as she read it.
It may take a generation or two for people to forget, but forget they shall - it is only a matter of time.
Hitting the button to reply, T’Mir sent back a response.
I will outlive you, all of my Human peers, and likely many of their children. It will not be forgotten quite as soon as you might like. I will make sure of it.
Gathered for New Year celebrations aboard Constellation, T’Mir danced with Talla, Toru, and Yoshiko, twirling like a quartet of whirling dervishes around and between their parents and those they considered family by love rather than blood. When at last they paused for a break and T’Mir sat sipping a glass of juice, T’Pol joined her.
“You know how proud your Uncle Malcolm is of you,” she said softly. “But that pales in comparison to how proud I am of you.”
“Mekina… pride is an emotion,” T’Mir observed quietly.
Nodding once, T’Pol said, “one which I feel in abundance for my daughter. You are by far my greatest accomplishment.”
Kissing her cheek, T’Mir said, “I love you too, Mummy. Always.”