Civilized Savages
By Didi
Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint.
Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why.
Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers.
RATING: Rated R for content.
Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Trettri IV - Trading Post
"Tell me why we're here again?" Lt. Travis Mayweather asked as he avoided a rather nasty looking fellow with claws that didn't look all too clean from his last meal. "Cause I'm still at a lost as to why we are here."
Captain Jonathan Archer grinned his usual good-natured self and patted the young man on the back. "Cause we are looking to improve our cultural..." he ducked at a tankard of something bright and green sailed over his head and crashed loudly against the far wall. "Experience."
"I think we could learn about this in a pub down in Georgia." Charles "Trip" Tucker III laughed as he watched a couple of rather shapely blue haired women dressed in what could be copper wires dance on a stage. "Though the entertainment was never this... strange."
"This is hardly the ideal place to be begin your cultural expansion." Their Vulcan Science officer looked about her with her usual cool distain. The rowdy crowd in the club was obviously not to her taste. Plus the unpleasant odor of sweat and alcohol was none too kind to T'Pol's hypersensitive nose. "Human males have been observed to think rather illogically when presented with...."
"Men are pigs when presented with a pair of breasts that are hanging out of barely there clothes." Ensign Hoshi Sato smirked in the usual female fashion and pulled out her portable language syntax computer and scan the area. "There are about fifteen languages being spoken here in this room alone. I can only guess how many dialects there are."
Archer watched her with amusement. "Okay, while we men ogle the lovely foreigners here, Hoshi would you mind making the rounds and find as much information and languages as you can? We're going to need you to learn as many as you can so we can speak to some of these people."
She smiled, knowing that Archer knew her weakness for new languages. "Yes sir."
"Mr. Reed, Trip, you guys are going to make sure that Hoshi doesn't get kidnapped or carried off to a harem somewhere." Archer looked over at T'Pol and Mayweather. "We are going to make a little trip to the merchants. See if we can trade for some improvements and information. Be careful guys, and don't piss anyone off."
"Yes sir," Trip grinned and made a mock bow. "Come along, Ensign. Time to earn our pay." Hoshi rolled her eyes and angled her body toward the door again.
Malcolm Reed, the man with the love for weapons, smiled indulgently and pocketed his phase pistol. "I think we can handle this without any problems."
Mayweather's bright smile came in the smoke filled room. "Have fun now."
~~~~~~~~~~
Obianshu walked slowly through the dark corridors, keeping from tripping over the big boxes that were heaped haphazardly along the wall. He wished that his clients were the kind of people that would live at least in decent civilized areas of the trade station. Unfortunately, one was never to meet the good sort when one deals in the trade of information.
"Are they here?" the deep voice seemed to have come out of no where behind a crate of rather interesting blue and purple plants. Obianshu jumped a good feet in the air startled enough to put his hand over his two hearts.
It took him a moment to get his breath again. "Yes."
"And the woman?"
"She's headed down to sublevel eight with two of her shipmates."
Dark eyes watched the man carefully, gauging the man's truthfulness. With a nod, he dropped a strip of gold into the man's hand. "Then that is where we shall go."
~~~~~~~~~~
Sublevel Eight - Merchants' Lane
Archer smiled as he picked up a rather interest pink fruit. "Look at this, it's magenta on the outside and white with black dots on the inside." He held it up to T'Pol. "What is it?"
"It's a trula. A native fruit of the third planet in this solar system that is exports for profit over the universe. It is considered a delicacy." T'Pol answered with a rather bored tone that was rather usual for the often bored science officer. The Vulcans had already well mapped this particular sector of the universe. But it was not part of her duties to discourage the crew in this little frivolous affair. Besides which, Archer was not one to be discourage when he finds anything of interest to explore.
"I had one once, sir." Travis Mayweather, their shipboard space boomer, smiled and took the fruit. "Tastes kind of like a kiwi."
"You've had a kiwi?" Archer was amused.
"Yeah, when I was at the academy. Professor Hutinson gave one to me."
"You tell me that Hutinson still teaches at the academy?" Trip asked as he came up from behind them. "That man was a hundred if he was a day when I was there."
"He was seventy-two, Trip." Archer laughed, remember the gnarled old man who was a taskmaster in quantum physics. How many time did they all get reprimanded for not grasping the concepts fast enough to suit their enthusiastic teacher. "And what are you doing here? Where is Reed and Hoshi?"
"Hoshi sat down with a guy to discuss something in a language I can't even pronounce. That girl picked up it faster than a starving horse to the feeding bin. Mr. Reed is keeping an eye on her while I do a little exploring about here." Trip picked up the magenta fruit. "What the heck is this?"
To be continued.....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've never done a Star Trek Fan Fic and I just remembered why. They are so hard to do. But I've been encouraged to do this; so all comments will be helpful. Now, this is a working story so anything goes as far as I'm concern. I don't know where I'm taking this story but it a mission, so don't worry, it won't go on for too long, hopefully. Okay, now go write some helpful comments for me. Thanks a lot.
By Didi
Disclaimers: Star Trek is owned by the late and great Gene Roddenberry. I own nothing within this story except the improbable idea behind it. Paramount owns the rights to the show and I do wish they would run of the wonderful reruns of the older series. Please don't sue me cause I have no money and will have to pay you in lint.
Summery: When one of their own goes missing, Enterprise crew goes on a search as to why.
Acknowledgement: To my darling Julie who loves Star Trek and is always willing to listen to me either rag or rave about episodes. Always know that you're opinion is more important than the stupid producers.
RATING: Rated R for content.
Note: I know that Enterprise hasn't been on television for long and the characterizing of the characters on the show may not be accurate but it's the way I see them. Bear me with here as I attempt to give some life to this.
~~~~~~~~~~
Trettri IV - Trading Post
"Tell me why we're here again?" Lt. Travis Mayweather asked as he avoided a rather nasty looking fellow with claws that didn't look all too clean from his last meal. "Cause I'm still at a lost as to why we are here."
Captain Jonathan Archer grinned his usual good-natured self and patted the young man on the back. "Cause we are looking to improve our cultural..." he ducked at a tankard of something bright and green sailed over his head and crashed loudly against the far wall. "Experience."
"I think we could learn about this in a pub down in Georgia." Charles "Trip" Tucker III laughed as he watched a couple of rather shapely blue haired women dressed in what could be copper wires dance on a stage. "Though the entertainment was never this... strange."
"This is hardly the ideal place to be begin your cultural expansion." Their Vulcan Science officer looked about her with her usual cool distain. The rowdy crowd in the club was obviously not to her taste. Plus the unpleasant odor of sweat and alcohol was none too kind to T'Pol's hypersensitive nose. "Human males have been observed to think rather illogically when presented with...."
"Men are pigs when presented with a pair of breasts that are hanging out of barely there clothes." Ensign Hoshi Sato smirked in the usual female fashion and pulled out her portable language syntax computer and scan the area. "There are about fifteen languages being spoken here in this room alone. I can only guess how many dialects there are."
Archer watched her with amusement. "Okay, while we men ogle the lovely foreigners here, Hoshi would you mind making the rounds and find as much information and languages as you can? We're going to need you to learn as many as you can so we can speak to some of these people."
She smiled, knowing that Archer knew her weakness for new languages. "Yes sir."
"Mr. Reed, Trip, you guys are going to make sure that Hoshi doesn't get kidnapped or carried off to a harem somewhere." Archer looked over at T'Pol and Mayweather. "We are going to make a little trip to the merchants. See if we can trade for some improvements and information. Be careful guys, and don't piss anyone off."
"Yes sir," Trip grinned and made a mock bow. "Come along, Ensign. Time to earn our pay." Hoshi rolled her eyes and angled her body toward the door again.
Malcolm Reed, the man with the love for weapons, smiled indulgently and pocketed his phase pistol. "I think we can handle this without any problems."
Mayweather's bright smile came in the smoke filled room. "Have fun now."
~~~~~~~~~~
Obianshu walked slowly through the dark corridors, keeping from tripping over the big boxes that were heaped haphazardly along the wall. He wished that his clients were the kind of people that would live at least in decent civilized areas of the trade station. Unfortunately, one was never to meet the good sort when one deals in the trade of information.
"Are they here?" the deep voice seemed to have come out of no where behind a crate of rather interesting blue and purple plants. Obianshu jumped a good feet in the air startled enough to put his hand over his two hearts.
It took him a moment to get his breath again. "Yes."
"And the woman?"
"She's headed down to sublevel eight with two of her shipmates."
Dark eyes watched the man carefully, gauging the man's truthfulness. With a nod, he dropped a strip of gold into the man's hand. "Then that is where we shall go."
~~~~~~~~~~
Sublevel Eight - Merchants' Lane
Archer smiled as he picked up a rather interest pink fruit. "Look at this, it's magenta on the outside and white with black dots on the inside." He held it up to T'Pol. "What is it?"
"It's a trula. A native fruit of the third planet in this solar system that is exports for profit over the universe. It is considered a delicacy." T'Pol answered with a rather bored tone that was rather usual for the often bored science officer. The Vulcans had already well mapped this particular sector of the universe. But it was not part of her duties to discourage the crew in this little frivolous affair. Besides which, Archer was not one to be discourage when he finds anything of interest to explore.
"I had one once, sir." Travis Mayweather, their shipboard space boomer, smiled and took the fruit. "Tastes kind of like a kiwi."
"You've had a kiwi?" Archer was amused.
"Yeah, when I was at the academy. Professor Hutinson gave one to me."
"You tell me that Hutinson still teaches at the academy?" Trip asked as he came up from behind them. "That man was a hundred if he was a day when I was there."
"He was seventy-two, Trip." Archer laughed, remember the gnarled old man who was a taskmaster in quantum physics. How many time did they all get reprimanded for not grasping the concepts fast enough to suit their enthusiastic teacher. "And what are you doing here? Where is Reed and Hoshi?"
"Hoshi sat down with a guy to discuss something in a language I can't even pronounce. That girl picked up it faster than a starving horse to the feeding bin. Mr. Reed is keeping an eye on her while I do a little exploring about here." Trip picked up the magenta fruit. "What the heck is this?"
To be continued.....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I've never done a Star Trek Fan Fic and I just remembered why. They are so hard to do. But I've been encouraged to do this; so all comments will be helpful. Now, this is a working story so anything goes as far as I'm concern. I don't know where I'm taking this story but it a mission, so don't worry, it won't go on for too long, hopefully. Okay, now go write some helpful comments for me. Thanks a lot.