I can't believe they made me attend his funeral.I didn't know him. All I know is he wasn't me, although he had my appearance, memories, and accent. The Captain still made me attend. Made me listen through his speech, suffer through the actual grief of the crew. My friends.
No, not my friends. His friends. The friends of Sim-Who-Was-Trip, who was born and lived and died on this ship. Starfleet's first boomer.
My genetic twin. Who had a life of his own, who very easily could have been the one to live, and I the one in the torpedo-coffin at the funeral.
I never thought that Jonathan Archer could be that cruel, to make me attend. He said I owed this Sim-Who-Was-Trip. Like I didn't know that? Like I haven't been told that by everyone on board ship, from the Captain to Malcolm to the steward that delivers the clean laundry from the quartermaster. They all watched Sim-Who-Was-Trip grow up, they all mourned his death. A death to save me.
Because this mission needs me. The ship needs me.
No one else needs me. No one else would miss me if I were gone. Maybe Porthos, but that's it. T'Pol proved she can take over my engineering duties as well as my first officer duties. Jonathan Archer no longer needs me as a friend. Apparently, no one else does either. No one has stopped by since the funeral. My own staff is walking on eggshells around me.
Looks like Lizzie isn't the only person this damn Expanse and its inhabitants have ripped from me.
So, they'll get what they want. A Chief Engineer who does his job, and nothing more. No away missions, no upgrading the engines. Nothing that will jeopardize my primary importance to this ship - keeping the Warp 5 humming.
After all, Phlox is out of those little water balloon things that can clone humans. Next time, the crew won't have a back up Trip.
Wouldn't want the Captain to regret his decision to let me live instead of Sim, now would I?