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Disclaimer: Paramount owns Enterprise and its characters.
Author: d.e.Miller
Summary: Shran's secret attachment...
Notes: This story picks up at the end of "Proving
Ground". As this is from season
three, UK readers beware of possible spoilers.
Rated PG-13 for suggestive imagery.
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Lost in Transmission
The command center door swished,
and Captain Archer entered. Hoshi
and T'Pol were busy at the control panel, and he approached
them.
"What's up?"
"Just before we went to
warp, Sir," Hoshi said, "we received a transmission
from the Andorians..."
"It wasn't on one of their
usual comm frequencies," T'Pol added. "It was
encoded to look like subspace interference."
The captain seemed confused.
"Well, let's see it then."
Hoshi pushed the appropriate
button, and the large screen lit up with a series
of schematics from the Xindi weapon. The program cycled
through a mass of data,
though it focused mainly on the sphere itself.
Hoshi continued.
"Apparently, they had time
to take some detailed scans before they ejected it."
"Judging from the clandestine
nature of the transmission," T'Pol appended.
"We must assume that the individual who sent this did
not want to be discovered."
A smile slowly spread across
Archer's face, and his eyes brightened.
"Get it to Star Fleet,"
he said, "as soon as possible."
Hoshi nodded and quickly left
for the bridge. The captain, still smiling, turned
to T'Pol.
"Why don't you and Trip
join me for dinner tonight?" he suggested. "I have
some Andorian ale you might like to try."
The sub-commander did not answer,
however, as she was seemingly still
engrossed with the data.
"T'Pol?"
She glanced up briefly before
refocusing on the small screen next to the
keyboard.
"Captain, I believe there
is...something else."
Archer leaned over her shoulder
and craned his neck.
"What is it?"
"There appear to be..."
"What?"
"There appear to be about
a hundred or so additional images," she said,
"but I don't think they have anything to do with the
Xindi weapon."
"Images?" Archer asked.
"What kind of images?"
Again, T'Pol glanced up briefly,
then she pushed a button. The large view
screen lit up with a picture of an Andorian woman - she was
provocatively posed
and quite nude.
"Well, I guess that answers
that," Archer mumbled. "Trip owes me a beer."
"Captain?"
"What? Oh, nothing..."
T'Pol eyed him with muted suspicion.
"The rest are similar to
this one," she said. "Apparently, all of the images are
some sort of Andorian...pornography. Shall I delete
them?"
She looked up at him, but he
didn't seem to notice, then he nudged her aside and
began browsing through the thumbnails on the smaller screen.
"Captain?"
"Uhh... No. Uhh...
Not just yet," Archer fumbled. "As a matter of fact... Uhh...
You know what? I'm sure that Phlox would find these...useful.
I mean, they would
add to his Adorian files. You know how he likes to...learn
as much about a species
as possible..."
"I doubt that the doctor
would be interested," T'Pol said flatly. "All aspects of
Andorian physiology are well-documented in the Vulcan database,
and I am sure
that they are equally well-known on Denobula."
"Oh."
"Shall I delete them?"
she asked flatly. "Or would you like me to forward them
to your quarters for further...study?"
"What? Oh... No.
Nope. That won't be necessary," Archer stammered.
"Just go ahead and delete- Um... You know
what? Sometimes...images...can
contain encrypted information..."
"That is true," she
said. "But in this case, I believe it is highly unlikely."
"All the same," he
said. "I think you'd better get these to Trip for analysis."
T'Pol eyed him with somewhat
less-muted suspicion.
"While I agree that Commander
Tucker is a competent engineer," she said
flatly. "I doubt that he would have the expertise
to...uncover any hidden messages
in these files."
"What? Oh... Did
I say Trip? I meant Malcolm. This is a security issue...
I mean, it could be. Who knows what's hidden in there?
I'm guessing it's some
important information about the Xindi defenses or something..."
T'Pol blinked.
"Lieutenant Reed would
be even less qualified than Commander Tucker,"
she noted. "If you want them analyzed, I would
have to do the work myself."
"I see," he said.
"Very good. You, uh, get started on that. First thing
in the
morning..."
"There's no need to wait,"
she stared. "It won't take long."
"No, no," he said.
"You've done enough today already... You look tired.
Besides, it can wait. Your rest is much more important."
"Very well," she relented.
"I will forward them to my quarters and examine
them when I get up tomorrow."
Before the captain could raise
another objection, T'Pol quickly clicked a
combination of buttons. The images immediately disappeared,
and a message
popped up - "108 of 108 Files Sent to tpol@enterprise.shp",
followed shortly
by "108 of 108 Files Deleted."
"Will there be anything
else?"
"Uh... No."
"Then I will see you at
dinner," she glinted. "Now, if you will excuse me..."
"Certainly."
T'Pol left the command center,
and Archer stood there for a moment and
waited. After a reassuring amount of time, he glanced
around then quietly attacked
the keyboard. He typed for a few fruitless minutes,
until finally, he furrowed, grumbled,
and started for the door. Shortly outside, however,
he stopped and went to the nearby
comm panel.
"Archer to Ensign Sato."
"Go ahead, Captain."
"Hoshi, did you...send
the, uh, weapons data to Star Fleet yet?"
"No, Sir," she said.
"I'm sorry. I was just getting ready to."
"No problem," Archer
said. "You are sending the complete file, right?"
"Sir?"
"The data," he explained.
"You're sending all of it? Just as we received it?"
"Yes, Sir," she said.
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"It is," he confirmed.
"Just checking," then he added, "And, uh, Hoshi? When
you do send it, though, uh, go ahead and forward me a copy."
"But, Sir, it's the same
information that's in the command center."
"I'm aware of that, Ensign,"
he said. "I was going to send myself a copy while
I was down there, but I...forgot."
"Yes, Sir," she said.
"I'll send it right away."
"Very good," he nodded
to the panel. "Archer out."
He quickly released the button,
smiled, then continued smugly down the hall.
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