Title: Noplace Like Home
Author: Apocalypse
Fandom: ENT
Disclaimer: These characters belong not to me, though it grieves my heart
greatly, but to Bermaga. Why? Because
there is no justice.
Pairing: Tucker/Sato, T'pol/Reed
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Trip Tucker is forced to use the transporter device during an unusual
ion storm … with unusual results.
Author's Note: Both of the pairings I'm writing in this story are outside my
pairing preferences. I can't say I don't usually write in them, because I haven't
written enough stories to usually write in anything, nor that I don't usually
read in them, because I have read dozens of Tu/S
stories (I like to read outside my own pairings to see what else is out there
and see how other people think … and there's nothing specifically wrong with
the relationship as it is usually portrayed, I just don't happen to like it
very much; it doesn't click for me, it doesn't make me squeal with glee the way
other pairings for the characters do) and a smaller number of Reed/T'pol stories (because I have personal difficulty with the
idea of relationships for a Vulcan woman with a human man). Therefore writing the story has proved somewhat difficult for me on
the shipping front, and I would appreciate any feedback on the way I portray
the interactions between Malcolm and T'pol (not as
much, because these are their warped, Mirror Universe selves) and especially
between Trip and Hoshi; I don't want to get their interactions totally dead-wrong
and inadvertently hurt people reading this story for pairings. I put aside my
personal pairing preferences because these are the pairings I need to have for
the story I want to tell, but that doesn't necessarily mean that the way they're
written works for those of you who read in these pairings, and I'd like to make
the story go as smoothly and engagingly for y'all as possible, so please drop
me a line if you don't like the way I've written them.
[WARNING: Watch out for character death in later chapters! Some people may die in the course of this fic! [They will all be alternate universe incarnations of themselves but if you think you will find their deaths traumatic, you may not want to read this story.]
Chapter One: The Ion Storm
"We haven't got a choice, Commander," Malcolm said fiercely, glaring up at his superior officer with an intensity of expression that could have got him court-martialed, were he in any other chain of command. "And I insist on going first. Whether or not it's safe," and he spat the word as though its consideration was beneath contempt, "is hardly a concern at this point!"
"I haven't got time to argue with you about this, Lieutenant," Trip retorted. "But if one of us is going to go through the storm first, it's going to be me."
"It is my duty as the chief of security on this ship …"
"We're not on the ship at the moment, are we, Mr. Reed? I order you to stand down," Trip said.
"You're more vital to the mission -"
"That may be, Malcolm, but I'm still your superior officer and I don't want to argue with you about this anymore," Trip said. He flipped open the communicator again. "Ready, Cap'n. Me first."
The sensation of being transported was always a peculiar one, and it seemed more so than usual this time … and it lasted longer … but despite the intensity of the ion storm surrounding the planetary atmosphere, there was simply no other choice. He had to beam aboard and he couldn't let Malcolm sacrifice himself, not for something so trivial.
The idea that in preventing Malcolm's desperate need to be a hero and sacrifice himself he might be sacrificing his own life was of secondary concern, or at least it was until it felt as though he were hanging there, a bunch of scrambled molecules as Hoshi liked to put it, and that he wasn't going to end up as anyone, anywhere.
And then there was a sudden jolt and he was rematerializing.
He could tell immediately that something was wrong. Although the design of the transporter seemed as far as he could tell exactly the same, Malcolm was standing next to the crewman at the controls, and he was certain that he'd left the Lieutenant on the planet's surface.
"Commander." Malcolm's voice was brisk, clipped, and military. This was not really new, although it felt off somehow, somehow more sinister than usual. Also, the uniform was different. It was dark red where Trip's own was grey and black where Trip's was blue. Then, as Trip glanced down at himself, he saw that he was dressed similarly. Huh. That was odd. You'd think he would've remembered putting this on when he got dressed this morning.
He took his clues from his friend. "Lieutenant," he replied, just as formally. He'd figure out what was going on eventually.
"Ensign Sato was … concerned," Malcolm said mildly. "The transport was longer than usual."
Usual? It wasn't like they used it that often. "I'll reassure her myself."
"You have suffered no deleterious effects?" It felt less like a friend's concerned inquiry and more like an interrogation by an agent of the Gestapo.
"I'm a little disconcerted, Lieutenant, but certainly fit for duty," Trip said.
"Excellent!" Malcolm said briskly. "You will go back on duty in one hour. The captain will be expecting a briefing on the atmospheric conditions on planet's surface when you have concluded your examination with Doctor Singerra."
Who was Singerra? What about Doctor Phlox?
But Malcolm was apparently finished with the interrogation or whatever it was and was marching out of the room.
Trip shrugged his shoulders to himself. Whatever was happening, he would certainly find out eventually and there was no sense standing by himself in here when there were things to be done. He'd report to Sickbay and see if he could figure out what had happened to Doctor Phlox …
