The Provocation Protocols
Disclaimers: They belong to Paramount. I just dip into their toybox for the fun of it.
This is a general adventure that features a Tucker/Reed romantic relationship in the background. Takes place in the fifth year of the mission, and I've given the delightful Mr Reed his promotion. Oh, the power of fanfic!
ONE
Captain Jonathan Archer was enjoying himself and, given the onerous nature of his position as Planet Earth's first emissary to the galaxy, that was not something which happened often. Mekrona's government made up in enthusiasm what their planet lacked in natural beauty, and no First Contact of his experience had progressed so smoothly. Its people, bipedal, tailless lizards in all but name, were warp-capable yet curiously unadventurous. No subtle questioning had been required to confirm that their technology had never been utilised beyond their own three-mooned planetary system, its existence a marvel of technical achievement over practical application.
The Captain smothered a smile, remembering the outrage of his Chief Engineer. What's the point buildin' a warp engine if all you're gonna do is sit around admirin' it?
First Secretary Antrum had personally undertaken to be his guide, and more than half of Enterprise's crew was currently engaged in diplomatic glad-handing or assisting the huge archaeological excavation that had first drawn their attention to a small and (in the opinion of his Vulcan First Officer, Archer noted sourly) insignificant Minshara class world with limited mineral resources and little diplomatic significance. When T'Pol had volunteered to mind the store in orbit, he had not been inclined to dissuade her.
Having enjoyed a gargantuan lunch at the First Secretary's palatial sandstone residence Archer was grateful for the offer of a walking tour of the city, his ever-active curiosity roused by the combination of rustic mud-brick single-storey houses surrounding a central plaza of towering pink stone spires which made up the government quarter. The people, Antrum assured him, were not impoverished; they simply preferred to live in the same modest structures their ancestors had created on the site designated by the gods.
"And you hope you'll find evidence of the gods from the excavation, First Secretary?" The UT hadn't made sense of the man's initial explanation, and interrupting his monologue on the generosity of the local divinities had seemed rude. The Mekronian peered over his cork-rimmed spectacles, pushing them back onto the characteristic pronounced bump at the bridge of his nose.
"The Great Divines do not leave footprints in crude soil, Captain!" he exclaimed, fluttering his curved six-clawed hands together. Archer summoned a sheepish look.
"Of course not: I apologise, our translator took a while to adapt to the syntax of your language. What are you looking for?"
"Signs, dear traveller: signs of why the Divines chose this place for their people's great journey to end."
Maybe the soil could give clues Enterprise's sensors had missed, Archer mused, because situated in an arid valley ringed with red rocks, a hundred kilometres from the closest water source and prone to famine when the underground irrigation corridors got blocked, Mekra-Divine would have given a Vulcan town planner palpitations. Pausing on the wooden viewing platform raised above the cavernous main trench on the east side of the city, Antrum waved both scaly claws toward a knot of Mekronian and human diggers consulting over what looked like a twisted chunk of discoloured gold.
"Your gracious assistance in providing labourers for our work must bring the benevolence of the Great Divines upon your journeys," he intoned. Sighing inwardly, the Captain bowed his head and answered the blessing as Hoshi had advised.
"The blessings of the Great Divines upon Mekrona, honoured Secretary."
The small official beamed, displaying an alarming set of jewelled fangs. "Many of our citizens are alarmed by the passage of aliens through our system, Captain; ancient lore proclaims that strangers from beyond these stars will be the harbingers of fire and death across Mekrona. The generosity of your crew in furthering our great work may help us overcome the superstition of a thousand generations."
"Superstition?" Several of the native workers were eyeing Enterprise's assortment of amateur archaeologists with a scepticism that bordered on dislike and Archer was proud of his people's stoic refusal to be riled. Maybe he was finally finding out what lay behind it.
Antrum nodded vigorously, wrapping a guiding hand around his arm and steering him away toward the main path between excavation and settlement. "The Great Divines cautioned our ancestors: beware the coming of strangers beyond the three moons! The government tries to educate, but we are a simple people."
"The civilisation you've developed suggests you're a whole lot more than that." He thought his host blushed (his greenish scales darkened as a human's complexion might under compliments) before disclaiming the praise with a cry of "Unworthy!"
"If you are content that your people are well attended…"
Archer raised both hands, his smile broadening beyond diplomatic convention. "I never had any doubt about that, First Secretary. Your welcome has been overwhelmingly warm, and we sincerely appreciate it; all the more so, since it goes against generations' concern about off-worlders."
"The best antidote to fear is to face it, dear Captain. Come – allow me to show you the Jewellery Quarter; the oldest and most blessed part of our town."
They were approaching the gilded gates of the Secretary's residence when Jonathan Archer's day took its first turn for the worse. He didn't know what had put that terrible look of frosty displeasure onto his head of security's face, but given the pace at which Lieutenant Commander Malcolm Reed was crossing the tree-lined, heavily-guarded piazza toward him, he was going to find out much too damned soon.
Helplessly he glanced beyond the bristling Englishman, seeking out the reassuringly open features of the man's partner, hovering at the stout gatehouse which separated the government residences from the main town. Trip Tucker looked worried – but considering the tightly leashed anger that crackled around the love of his life, Archer mused, that was neither unexpected nor insightful.
"Captain."
"Commander." Under normal circumstances he would have used his friend's given name, uniforms notwithstanding, but this was evidently an official approach. "First Secretary, will you excuse us?"
"Of course!" Giving the stonily silent Englishman a brief bow, Antrum continued through the palace gates, hissing a word to the guards who fell to their knees at his passing
"Problem, Malcolm?" Keeping his voice low, Archer guided the younger officer by the arm into the shadow provided by the gatekeeper's stone porch. Reed's well-shaped lips pursed.
"Two of our personnel have been victims of assault, Captain. I'd call that a problem, yes."
"Assault?" Cold gooseflesh broke out beneath his sand-camouflage hot weather uniform. Reed nodded brusquely.
"Crewmen Callis and Kelly, Sir."
"Two women."
To his eternal credit Malcolm kept the patronising comment choked down, confirming his C.O's statement of the bleeding obvious with another nod. "Callis reported being – I believe the correct term is goosed on her way to lunch in the market square. Kelly's bottom was examined rather aggressively while she was digging – no, neither saw their attackers, Captain; there were rather a lot of people around on both occasions."
"I see." Archer chewed his lower lip. "They're not hurt?"
"Shaken, Sir, but physically – no." Reed's changeable grey-blue eyes had darkened with a steeliness Jonathan Archer had learned to dread, and now Trip, Kelly's department chief, was looming over his lover's shoulder, looking confused and miserable. "I've sent them both for coffee in the shutlepod, with Tanner as escort."
"Surely they don't need..."
"They're both pretty shook up by it Cap'n," Trip pointed out, resting a warning hand on the dark-haired man's tense arm. "Maybe these folks think it's all a little friendly game but if a human did somethin' like that..."
"I know." Sexual harassment was a criminal offence on most of the worlds Enterprise had visited, and it turned his stomach to think of his people being exposed to it here. "I'll protest to the First Secretary – Malcolm, if Kelly and Callis would prefer to remain on Enterprise tomorrow, they have my permission. These people aren't used to seeing females as equals..."
"That's quite clear, Sir," Reed growled. Tucker cleared his throat, theatrically nervous.
"Cap'n we all git the idea of playin' nice with folks' customs, but don't it cut both ways?" he asked plaintively. "They asked for our help; and y' know what happened to Callis an' Kelly'd be called assault back home. We can't let that jus' happen!"
"No, we can't; but you have to appreciate the delicacy of what we're doing here." One man looked hurt, the other frankly hostile, but somebody had to keep a sense of proportion and Archer figured it was going to have to be him. "These people have been reared to mistrust outsiders, and to believe it's their right to treat their females like chattels."
"Doesn't give them the right to treat ours the same way – Sir."
The single beat before the respectful title completely, Trip acknowledged, changed its meaning. Not that he disagreed with his partner's point – quite the reverse – but that momentary hesitation brought it pretty damn close to insubordination.
Jonathan, he noted with relief, was willing to let it pass. "I appreciate your bringing this to my attention so promptly, Commander," he said mildly. "And I'll raise it with Anturm as a matter of urgency. Now, as it's getting late, maybe you could assemble the away teams to return to the ship? Have Callis and Kelly check in with Phlox; and draw up some proposals to improve security for female personnel down here."
"Aye, Sir." He could swear that was relief on the Brit's angular features. Trip tipped him a wink as he scuttled in the Armoury Officer's wake, and it was all Jonathan Archer could do not to laugh.
Instantly he sobered, guilt flooding him. Callis, a stern-faced, straggled-haired scientist in her mid-forties, was an unlikely target for a predatory alien's sexual curiosity (setting aside her marked preference for her own gender); Kelly, young, attractive and vivacious, would be accustomed to male attention, but hardly of this crude and aggressive nature.
Both women would be, he suspected, reluctant to assist the Mekronians further. When word spread, so would many of their sisters.
Squaring his shoulders, he approached the residence guards, just managing to make the respectful bow required to gain him access. The sooner he raised diplomatic hell with Secretary Antrum, the better from everyone's point of view.
"Honoured Captain, a thousand apologies!" Both clawed hands over his face, Antrum rocked on the balls of his feet, his scales the violent lime-green Archer had come to associate with excessive emotion "Your females – they were not wounded?"
"Commander Reed assures me they're not injured; just badly shaken by their experience." Which would transmute into fighting-madness on Jenny Kelly's part if he understood her department chief's character assessment right. "On Earth it's be hundreds of years since women were subject to casual manhandling of this nature. We appreciate your culture is very different, but..."
"Cultural difference does not give our males the right to offend guests," the Mekronian concluded. Quietly letting out the breath he had been holding, Archer ducked his head in assent.
"I appreciate your empathy, First Secretary."
"Please – convey my personal apologise to the females concerned: and my assurances that the perpetrators will be discovered and punished. We are a peaceful people; we do not tolerate violence against our friends."
"Thank you; but don't feel obliged to hunt down the offenders too harshly." Uttering a silent prayer of thanks to the god of diplomats, Archer forced a tight smile to twist his mouth. If Malcolm or Trip heard those words...
"After all, it's a simple misunderstanding that can easily happen when different cultures interact for the first time."
His host's scales faded to something near their usual dull grey-green. "Your compassion humbles us, dear Captain. The sight of females working as men – dressing in male attire – is a novelty even I must confess to finding – disturbing. However, if we are to take our place among the other species beyond our own stars, we must learn to show the same veneration of their habits you show for ours. These – unpleasant incidents will not be repeated. You have my word, in the name of the Great Divines that order our society."
"If there's anything we can do to limit the anxiety our female crew cause your people, First Secretary…"
The Mekronian's scaly skin began to change colour again. "Dear Captain the fault is with a few insular members of our community; your females should not be constrained from their own cultural conduct by an inadvertent transgression caused by ours. I am certain the offenders meant no harm, but it is as well misunderstandings of this nature are resolved immediately and – I trust - amicably."
The tall human let out a quiet sigh. "Very amicably, First Secretary. I can't tell you how much I appreciate your understanding."
One glinting eye fixed somewhere above his head. "Your Tactical Officer appeared to be particularly disturbed…"
"Commander Reed is my head of security, First Secretary." Antrum gargled in response.
"Ah, I see, he feels any misfortune to befall a crewmate as a failure on his part."
Instinctively Archer stiffened until his posture was a match for Reed's at his most punctilious. "Mister Reed could hardly protect Callis and Kelly from being manhandled," he grated, deliberately softening stance and tone as he realised how hostile he had begun to sound. "His anger was a reflection of professional and personal concern for his friends."
Subordinates and colleagues, Malcolm would probably have said, but he figured a little exaggeration was in order if it negated their host's interest in Reed's undeniable annoyance. When the elderly Mekronian nodded, murmuring a final apology for the wrong done, he decided even his by-the-book security chief would forgive the embellishment.
And it was a mighty relief when he could bow himself out of the minister's presence and dash out of town to a waiting shuttlepod.