—Chapter 01—
Having just showered, Trip slipped into some shorts and then sat on his bunk, initially drying his hair with a fluffy towel, then burying his face in the moist towel. His mind ran over recent events, this whole mess with the Aenar, those damned psionically controlled battle drones, and worst of all, the casual disregard which T'Pol seemingly showed for her own safety. It was all too fucking much!
Why did I ever get involved with her, thought Trip in a dark mood now, willfully ignoring the things which had drawn the two of them together. He thought of his conversation with Phlox in Sick Bay, and recalled his final question to the Denobulan: "What the hell am I going to do now?"
I've got to get off this ship, thought Trip. That's what I'm gonna do now. There's nothing else to be done. This thing with T'Pol, it's too much because it can't be fixed. She feels nothing for me, while I'm bleeding out for her.
Yes, a transfer is the thing to aim for here. Hell, StarFleet's been trying to get me to jump ships to the Columbia, and Captain Hernandez has secretly made her pitch as well behind Jon's back, all trying to woo me onto her ship if only to get the Columbia out of spacedock: that ship should have been launched a month ago.
Just then, Trip's comm unit buzzed, and Trip rose to access the wall mounted comm unit.
"Yes," said Trip.
"You have a message from Earth, Commander Tucker," said the night shift's Communications officer.
"Send it to my computer, please," said Trip.
"Yes, sir," said the Comm officer.
A moment later, Trip had found his seat and the desktop video monitor flickered to life in order to display Soval's face. Now that was a surprise, but it was a pleasant one, so far as Trip was concerned. Soval had willingly faced death along with the entire crew of the Enterprise while attempting to prevent a war between Vulcan and Andoria recently, and as far as Trip was concerned that made Soval an honorary shipmate.
"Commander Tucker," said Soval politely. "It is agreeable to speak with you once again."
"Likewise, Ambassador," said Trip, truthfully. "If we were on Earth, or Vulcan, I'd hope you were calling me to share a meal and catch up socially, but the fact that you're calling me here tells me that this is a matter of business."
"It is," said Soval, "but I look forward to sharing a meal with you at the earliest opportunity, Commander Tucker."
"Done," said Trip. "So what can I do for you, Ambassador?"
"It is not what you can do for me, Commander, but what I can do for you," said Soval. "As you know, once the Kir'Shara was found and given back to my people due in part to your captain's actions, the High Command was disbanded and a new Vulcan government formed, one more aligned with Surak's teachings."
Trip nodded his head, and said, "Yes, Ambassador. I'm aware of that fact."
"What you may not know, is that our new government has decided to abandon the High Command's secretive ways," said Soval, "and we have decided to largely share our technical knowledge with all species of good will, yours included."
"I see," said Trip, excited now: he'd been itching to get his hands of a Vulcan warp drive for years, and shield emitters for almost as long.
"That is apparent," said Soval, giving a slight smile, "from the look of excitement on your face."
"Yes, well you can't really blame me. I'm an engineer," said Trip. "So why did you contact me, Ambassador?"
"One of our light cruisers, the Tek'Marr, is heading out for a deep space survey mission," said Soval. "You are welcome to join that mission as a junior officer serving the Tek'Marr in Engineering, in order to get some hands on time with our engines. You would find that experience invaluable in order to flesh out the data we'll be sharing with StarFleet soon."
"I would love that, Soval!" said Trip. "Excuse me, I meant Ambassador."
"There is nothing to excuse, Commander Tucker," said Soval. "Feel free to address me by my name in private."
Trip nodded, and said, "People call me Trip. It's a nickname."
"Very well, Trip," said Soval.
"In any case, I'm grateful for the opportunity, Soval, but is this a good time to run exploratory missions," said Trip, "what with the Romulan menace?"
"As good as any," said Soval. "We have enough ships to spare one, and the rest of our little coalition is providing their fair share."
"In that case, I'd love to take part in this mission," said Trip. "Thank you, Soval."
"You are welcome," said Soval, smiling slightly at the Human's apparent excitement. "Since you are agreeable to my proposal, I have also attached the tech files for the Tek'Marr's major systems to this transmission. I know you will want a head start on mastering the information before boarding our ship."
"You're right about that, Soval," said Trip. "Did I thank you yet?"
"You did, and it pleases Vulcan to at least partially repay it's debt to you, for your part in preventing a Vulcan/Andorian war," said Soval. "I will speak to Admiral Forrest in an hour, and arrange a rendezvous between the Enterprise and the Tek'Marr in order to pick you up, as soon as our ship is fully provisioned and outfitted for this expedition."
"I can't wait," said Trip. "May I ask a favor though?"
"Certainly," said Soval.
"Would you see if you can persuade Admiral Forrest to simply order us to rendezvous with the Tek'Marr without declaring the purpose for the rendezvous to the Enterprise beforehand? I'd rather avoid answering a thousand questions about this mission, or a tedious going away party, when I could instead be familiarizing myself with the Tek'Marr's technical data. It would be an illogical use of the crew's time, and mine."
"I will see what I can do," said Soval.
"Thanks again, Soval."
The Vulcan gave Trip the ta'al, the Vulcan hand salute, which Trip returned, and then the view screen went black. Thinking of the possibilities, Trip's mood was buoyed by the excitement he felt at this professional opportunity, and the chance to take a breather and put this thing with T'Pol on the back burner for a while. He could always transfer to the Columbia after this mission.
Five days after his conversation with Soval, Trip walked into the Captain's Mess for breakfast. He'd been practically a recluse during those five days, sequestering himself in his quarters after his shift in order to spend the next eight to ten hours poring over the technical data covering the Tek'Marr's systems, taking short breaks only now and then to hit the Mess Hall for coffee or a quick bite, but Jon apparently had enough by the fifth day and ordered Trip to have breakfast with him, so Trip came as ordered despite his desire to get an hour's reading in before his shift began.
"There he is," said Archer with a smile as Trip moved to take his seat. "I'd begun to think you'd died in your quarters, Trip."
"Can't blame you for that, Captain," said Trip, laughing a bit at Jon's quip. "I've had a lot of reading to do though, for a good cause."
"Commander," said T'Pol, as she glanced at Trip.
She'd spoken with purposeful detachment, and her glance, while intended to be quite neutral unintentionally conveyed a bit of reproach, for despite appearances T'Pol had been more troubled than she could logically justify when Commander Tucker had recently told her plainly that his concern for her welfare during the Aenar mission was 'purely professional'.
Come on, Trip!, T'Pol had thought at the time. I am doing my duty! There is no need to be so cruel to me for that fact!
"Morning, SubCommander," said Trip pleasantly enough, before turning his attention to the Captain's Steward, and with that T'Pol's mental hamster was off to the races: so, the Commander all but vanishes from the ship after his unnecessarily harsh comment to me, and now he is all smiles and soft spoken words, yet he calls me SubCommander, as if my name would stick in his craw. I will never understand this man!
"Morning, Mark," said Trip to the Captain's Steward.
"Good morning, Commander," said Mark Evers. "What's your pleasure this morning?"
"I'd love some of that carne adovada from last night's supper," said Trip, "if there's any left in the kitchen."
"You're in luck, Commander Tucker," said the steward. "Chef knows you like it, so he set some aside for you."
"Thanks, Mark," said Trip.
"So, what have you been doing lately, Trip?" said Archer. "Malcolm, Hoshi, T'Pol, no one knows where you vanish as soon as your shift is over these days."
"I vanish to my quarters," said Trip. "I'm doing some thinking."
"Anything I need to know about?" said Jon. "Usually, after brainstorming like this you come to me with a crazy idea that inevitably works to boost performance."
Trip laughed, and said, "Nothing like that, Captain. The engine's purring like a kitten right now. I don't want to mess with perfection."
"I do not believe the doctor would approve of you isolating yourself for such extended periods," said T'Pol. "Perhaps I should ask him to evaluate you, Commander Tucker, and determine if you need to scale back on your commitments to Engineering, in exchange for some time spent on his psychologist's couch."
Jon's brows went up at that and he laughed out loud. It was a dirty, underhanded threat, on T'Pol's part: Phlox could remove anyone from duty if he thought he had just cause, and separating Trip from his Engine Room would be tantamount to torture.
"Don't worry about me," said Trip, looking shrewdly at T'Pol, for he'd also guessed her game.
They all spoke then of ship's business, and soon enough the steward dropped off their food and coffee, and Trip forgot all about conversation. Chef had scooped up a large helping of the pork chunks which had been stewed for hours in a rich red chile sauce until it was tender and flavorful. To this meat, Chef had added two scrambled eggs, some golden pan fried potatoes chunks, refried black beans, two fire charred jalapenos, some pico de gallo, and six fluffy fresh tortillas. Yummy!
Trip took it all in with a heartfelt sigh, and prepared to dig in, when Jon caught his eye, a sad look on the captain's face. Oh, yeah. Phlox had placed the captain on a low-fat diet, and Jon was eating egg whites, cottage cheese and plain toast while he was about to feast like a degenerate glutton.
"Sorry, Captain," said Trip, a mischievous grin on his face.
"Forget it," said Archer.
"Ok," said Trip, and began eating.
Trip constructed himself a small burrito with eggs, meat and potatoes, topped it with some pico de gallo, then took a bite of his burrito and then a bite of the fire charred jalapeno, and moaned with eyes closed. When he opened them, he saw Jon staring at him with the wide-eyed look of a dog staring into a butcher shop window. A moment later, the captain snapped.
"Give me some! That's an order!" said Jon, holding out his plate, then calling for his steward. "Mark!"
A moment later the steward entered the room and looked at the captain.
"Another one of these plates for Trip and I to share, please," said Archer. "The hell with Phlox!"
"Yes, sir," said the steward.
"Here, you hungry bastard," said Trip, scooping half of the contents of his plate onto Jon's plate. "It's a crime, the diet Phlox laid out for you! A crime!"
"You're a good man, Trip!" said Archer, his eyes glazed over at the sight and scents of Trip's food, lingering especially on the golden potato chunks, dusted with powdered cumin and cayenne, and then pan fried in butter till golden. "A good man."
Trip nodded his agreement with the captain's assessment of his character, and T'Pol watched them both stuff their faces as if they'd been lost at sea for a month, while the two Humans exchanged looks of appreciation, and soon after, sounds of contentment.
