Title: The Hazards of Dropping In
Author: Kathy Rose
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to someone else, etc., etc., etc. I'm not making any money, I'm just having fun with the characters. Wish I'd thought of them first.
CHAPTER 1
Captain Jonathan Archer looked over at the communications console where Ensign Hoshi Sato sat with one hand to her earpiece. She had been in constant contact with the D'nini from the time Enterprise had picked up their ship's distress call more than two hours ago. She had even talked to them during the docking procedure which they'd just completed. For the most part, she had conversed quietly, not disturbing the bridge crew, but her last comment had been pitched loudly enough to get his attention.
"The D'nini are asking if they can come aboard before we send our repair crew over," she said.
"They're more than welcome," Jon replied, "but is there a particular reason they want to come over here?" Turning toward his science officer, he asked, "The life support on their ship is functional, isn't it, T'Pol?"
Commander T'Pol glanced at her console and inclined her head. "Perhaps they are merely trying to be friendly," she said, her flat tone giving the innocent words a cynical twist that only a Vulcan could achieve.
"Sir?" Hoshi said impatiently, getting his attention again. "There are some conditions to our helping them. In fact, that's why they're asking to come aboard."
Jon, who had been standing in the command well behind Ensign Travis Mayweather during the docking procedure, sat down in his chair. "Oh?"
"The reason they want to come over is because our repair team is comprised of men." She paused as a smile that she'd been holding back suddenly burst forth. "The D'nini on that ship are all women, and they can't be around men. They aren't even supposed to see men."
Jon blinked several times, then asked, "Why?"
"They're holy women, sir. Some sort of religious order," she explained. "From what I can tell from talking to them, they've dedicated a portion of their lives to contemplative meditation and prayer, and men are considered distractions. There's no way they can avoid our crewmen on their ship -- it's not that big."
Jon digested this information. "That explains why their communication with us is audio only. But there are even more men over here," he pointed out.
"Sir, they'll refuse our offer of help if their request cannot be granted," Hoshi said, all trace of her earlier amusement gone. "Their leader said, and I quote, 'We would rather die in the coldness of space than violate the demands of our devotion.'" There was silence for a few moments until Hoshi suggested, "We could clear the corridors before they come aboard."
Jon turned his gaze on T'Pol, who said, "Female personnel could escort them to a...male-free area...where they could remain for the duration of the repair work."
"I can't believe this," Jon muttered softly, shaking his head. To be sure, it was a funny situation. Compared to some scrapes Enterprise had been in, however, it was nothing. Just awkward, he decided at last.
The final determination came when T'Pol, checking her instruments, reported that there were no other ships within scanning range. The D'nini needed help now. The engine on their ship had been severely damaged by an ion storm. Either Enterprise helped the D'nini, or there was a good possibility they would die in this isolated region of space.
"Let's do it," he said. "Hoshi, issue a shipwide announcement telling the male crew members to remain either at their stations or in their quarters. T'Pol, you meet the group from the D'nini ship and take them to..."
At his questioning gaze, T'Pol said, "A guest cabin should suffice. There are five D'nini. They should be comfortable in such accommodations if their stay is not long. Mr. Tucker's initial assessment of their engine problem indicates a repair time of no more than six hours."
"Captain," Hoshi put in. "I'd like to volunteer to help with the D'nini."
Hoshi didn't fool Jon. He knew she was eager to have a chance to learn yet another new language. What would that make -- forty-nine languages she could speak? Fifty? He told Hoshi that she would be free to go with T'Pol as soon as she made the general announcement informing the male crew members of the situation.
The announcement made, T'Pol and Hoshi turned their stations over to relief crew members. The two women were almost to the turbolift when a thought occurred to Jon.
"T'Pol?" he asked. "These D'nini... They aren't like Orion women, are they?"
The captain's question drew the attention of everyone on the bridge, and all eyes were on T'Pol as she turned back to answer.
"Vulcan has had limited contact with the D'nini," she said. "We do know that D'nini society is similar to those of many humanoid species, with the opposite genders having equal rights and privileges. To my knowledge, their females do not have pheromones that influence males, as do the Orions." She paused, tilting her head to one side. "I believe this particular group is much like the cloistered religious orders on Earth, which eschew the material distractions of life and remain apart from the larger society."
Jon nodded his head in understanding, and T'Pol and Hoshi went on their way. He sighed and leaned back in his command chair. It was just his luck that Enterprise had contacted a new species and he wouldn't be able to meet them in person -- simply because he was a man.
Lieutenant Malcolm Reed was on his side in a crawlway above E deck's main forward corridor. Some of the phase cannon firing relays located there had gone on the fritz. The announcement coming from a comm panel on the other side of a large ventilation grate near his feet was muffled, but he could still make it out.
"Remain at my post?" he muttered disgustedly under his breath as he struggled to remove one of the relay covers. "It's not bloody likely I'll leave until these are fixed -- and that could be hours, the rate I'm going."
He had been on the bridge when the distress call had come in. Learning from T'Pol that the D'nini were not hostile -- they had never been in an armed conflict in recorded history, according to the Vulcan database -- he had opted to leave the bridge to work on the relays. The D'nini might not be a threat, but there were any number of other species which were. The sooner he got the relays fixed, the better. And now this nonsense about all men staying out of sight of the D'nini! It's just as well he had gotten started on it, else he might be stuck on the bridge for who knew how long and the relays would still need to be fixed.
He twisted the cover of the relay first to one side, then the other, in an effort to dislodge it. He finally managed to pop it out of place, but in doing so, his right hand slammed back into a piece of support bracing, and his index finger sustained a nasty cut. Grumbling, he reached into one of his pockets for a handkerchief to tie around the offending digit. It wasn't bleeding overly much, but the last thing he wanted was to get blood in the relay's connection and mess it up.
As he wrapped his finger with the makeshift bandage, he was glad the cut wasn't worse. Not that he wanted to go to sickbay -- he usually avoided the medical area as a matter of principle. But the comm announcement had made it clear that no men were to be in the corridors for the next thirty minutes. A trip to sickbay was out of the question in any case.
He made the necessary repairs to the relay. Hampered as he was by his injured finger, it took a little longer than it should have. He put the cover back in place and gathered up his tools, and scooted toward the next relay. The way things were going, he was going to be cooped up in crawlways the rest of his shift, D'nini or no D'nini.
The docking hatch at the airlock slid open, but to T'Pol's and Hoshi's surprise, no one was on the other side. They exchanged a glance -- Hoshi's puzzled, T'Pol's curious -- and looked back at the open doorway. T'Pol called loudly, "You may come out. There are no men here."
A soft rustling preceded the appearance of the D'nini women. Hoshi blinked as they stepped into view. Each one wore a shimmering gown that on Earth would harken back to medieval times. The high-waisted dresses served only to emphasize the wearers' slenderness as the skirts swirled about them with their movements. The outfits also called attention to their rather well-endowed chests, Hoshi thought cattily as she noted the abundance of flesh protruding above the snug, low-cut bodices. Each dress, while similar in cut, was a different color. It was like looking at a living rainbow.
The D'nini themselves were human-looking. Only slightly taller than Hoshi, they each had gracefully proportioned limbs, along with eyes and ears and everything else in the proper locations. Their hair, ranging in shades from silvery blonde to blue-black, was long and wavy. Not medieval times, Hoshi corrected herself. More like the hippie era of the 1960s, although not many hippies had eyes the same shade as their hair like these women did. And while they didn't appear to be young, neither did they give the impression of being old.
"I am Commander T'Pol," the Vulcan said. "This is Ensign Sato. We will escort you to a suitable waiting place away from men."
The silver-haired D'nini stepped forward and inclined her head. "We appreciate your efforts on our behalf, and will remember you in our devotions."
When no other words were forthcoming, T'Pol indicated the group should follow her, and they started off down the corridor.
The next relay was proving more troublesome than the previous one. Malcolm had to resort to prying the cover off with a screwdriver. As he began to pick at the inner workings of the relay, he was acutely aware of the almost absolute silence around him. Normally, there would be someone walking along the corridor below him at least every few minutes or so. Not only did the corridor have entrances to the mess hall and sickbay, but it allowed access to the lower level of Engineering as well.
It was strange not hearing the normal sounds associated with people on board. Just because the men were supposed to remain out of sight didn't mean the women couldn't be out and about. But the female personnel, all twenty-five or so of them including the female MACOs, were apparently keeping under wraps, too.
He was removing some damaged wiring when his ears detected the sound of many footsteps in the corridor below. It must be the D'nini group, he surmised. He wouldn't be able to see much through the grate even if he was inclined to peek. They wouldn't be aware he was up here, either. Most people didn't look at what was above their heads as they walked, not that they would be able to see much through the grate if they did.
He stopped working so that he wouldn't cause any noise that might attract attention. As he waited for the group to pass by, he rolled onto his back to stretch out the kinks in his muscles from being cooped up in the cramped crawlway.
Much as Hoshi wished to converse with the D'nini, she respected their disinclination to speak in public. Perhaps when they were squared away in their temporary quarters they would be more willing to talk.
T'Pol was leading the way, with the D'nini grouped together after her. Hoshi brought up the rear. She had ample opportunity to see how the light reflected off metallic threads in their gowns and sent prismatic sparkles dancing on the bulkheads. It was a good thing the men were staying out of sight, she thought. The D'nini presented a sight that was sure to attract the attention of any red-blooded male.
They were turning a corner leading to the guest cabin when a creaking sound from overhead caught Hoshi's attention. It was so out of place that she looked up, trying to locate where it was coming from.
As soon as his buttocks came in contact with the ventilation grate, Malcolm realized it had been a mistake to roll onto his back. He felt the grate give, but before he could reverse direction, the grate beneath him fell away, landing with a horrendous clang in the corridor below.
Even worse, he was slipping arse first through the opening, his body folding up like a pocket knife as he began to slide through. His hands flailed uselessly as he sought something to stop his descent. The handkerchief he'd wrapped around his cut snagged on a rough edge of metal trim and began to unravel from around his finger. In desperation, he managed to keep hold of the handkerchief, and for a few seconds, it held.
But his weight was too much for the fabric. It tore, and he slipped down through the opening.
A large grate in the overhead bulkhead crashed to the deck not more than two meters in front of T'Pol. The entire group came to a halt, their eyes directed toward the opening in the ceiling. A uniformed posterior hung suspended there for a few moments, then it and the body to which it was attached plummeted unceremoniously to the deck. Shrieks came from the D'nini as Malcolm landed with a thud on his back in front of them.
"A man!" cried the silver-haired D'nini. Turning an accusing glare on T'Pol, she said, "We were not to see men. How has this happened?"
"That is what I would like to know," said T'Pol calmly. "However, I suggest we continue to your cabin, thereby minimizing the length of contact."
Murmured agreement came from the D'nini.
T'Pol paused before leading the group away. "Lieutenant, are you all right?" she asked the dazed tactical officer.
Malcolm opened his mouth to speak, apparently thought better of it, and closed his mouth and nodded. He got to his feet, grimacing at the sharp stab of pain in his cut finger as he pushed himself up from the deck. The movement had caused the finger to start bleeding again. He clasped it in his other hand, trying to staunch the bleeding, as he stepped aside to let the group pass.
A muted gasp came from the D'nini. "Blood," murmured the silver-haired one.
"That's okay," Hoshi said hastily. "We have a doctor on board. Lieutenant Reed will be all right."
"You don't understand," cried another of the D'nini, this one in a vibrant green dress. "Blood! We have seen his blood."
The last two words were said almost reverently as she pointed at Malcolm's hands. A trickle of blood could be seen seeping out from under his protective grasp.
"Lieutenant," T'Pol said. "It would be best if you take yourself to sickbay."
"We must go with him!" the silver-haired D'nini said. "We have seen his blood."
"I don't understand," T'Pol said. "You requested that the men on this ship avoid contact with you. Now you wish to be with Lieutenant Reed?"
"Yes," sighed a D'nini in a saffron yellow dress. "It has been predestined by the spilling of his blood. We must go to him."
The other D'nini nodded in agreement and started to move toward Malcolm who, blinking at the colorful feminine advance, gulped and took a step backward.
"Stop!" T'Pol ordered.
Hoshi was relieved when the women obeyed. She had no idea what the D'nini had in mind for Malcolm. Were they going to physically attack him for violating their self-imposed, gender-limited existence? And why did they keep carrying on about Malcolm's blood? She had to admit there was absolutely no consistency between the D'ninis' request to be away from men and the way they were acting toward Malcolm.
T'Pol let out a long breath. It was apparent that, despite her Vulcan control, she was trying to retain her composure. "I suggest that Lieutenant Reed proceed to sickbay--" Protests came from the five alien women, and T'Pol had to raise her voice to be heard. "All of us will accompany him there."
This seemed to satisfy the D'nini, for they preened prettily and relaxed. They reminded Hoshi of a flock of tropical birds, chirping to each other and smoothing non-existent wrinkles in their brilliantly hued dresses.
The only one who hadn't relaxed was Malcolm. Still holding his injured hand, he'd been edging in the direction of sickbay. Hoshi wondered if he had been considering making a break for it. Running away was probably a more appealing option to him than being escorted by this fluttering, twittering feminine gaggle, Hoshi realized.
Well, except for herself and T'Pol. Hoshi rarely fluttered, and she never twittered. She couldn't imagine T'Pol doing either.
"Please!" T'Pol said loudly as the D'nini continued to talk excitedly amongst themselves. "If we could have some order?"
"Of course," said the silver-haired D'nini, whom Hoshi had decided was their leader if only because she was the one who spoke the most often. "Please forgive us."
T'Pol inclined her head and turned to Malcolm. She gestured for him to get moving, and he did so hastily, but not before he shot one last wary glance at the D'nini. T'Pol fell into step behind him, effectively keeping the D'nini from crowding him. Hoshi once again was relegated to bringing up the rear.