Notes: They haven't got round to screening Enterprise on terrestrial TV
here in the UK, so I apologise if I've got the character of Hoshi wrong. PG-
13 for mild sexual imagery. Hoshi/T'Pol, implied future Hoshi/f. Spoilers
for Generations. Constructive criticism is always welcome at
four_horsemen_of_the_apocalypse@hotmail.com I will delete any flames. In
the unlikely event of anyone wanting to archive this, please e-mail me
before you do. I just like to keep track of my fics
Disclaimer: This does not belong to me. I'm just playing in the little sandpit that is Paramount's world. I have no candy, so there's no point in getting angry about me using the spade and shovel (if you catch my drift). Captain J.G Alexander and the crew of the deep-space scout USS Michigan are mine by intellectual copyright
Request: I'm not happy with the title of this fic, so if you can think of anything better, please let me know
Missing Paradise
By the Horseman
"""""""""""""""""""
'...among the casualties was Lieutenant-Commander Sato, who was declared missing in action after a plasma storm hit the Enterprise on its way to the Battle of Aragon V...'
from Fleet Personnel file #B191-CJS-27783-Delta; Sato, Lieutenant-Commander Hoshi C (DECEASED)
""""""""""""""""""""
'the Nexus travels through this galaxy approximately once every 31.9 years'
Data - Star Trek: Generations
""""""""""""""
Some days, some days...
Y'know, occasionally, I wish I'd taken Dad's advice. I mean, ol' Doc Tanner keeps on telling me I'd make a great surgeon if only I'd ignore 'all this stupid command track stuff'
Some days..
They say there ain't a race o' people more melancholic in the galaxy than scoutship crew. I laughed when I first heard it. O'course, back then I was the flavour of the month. Youngest exec in the fleet, beatin' even Will Riker over on the Enterprise.
Like they said at the time, if y'consider Riker's record, that ain't exactly a good omen
Day started well enough, considering. We've been trackin' this energy cloud the Enterprise picked up since Sector 029. Call it 'the Nexus'. Weird, but then again I've named weirder in my time. Besides, apparently it was called that by the El-Aurians, and if I've learnt anything out here, it's don't argue with the El-Aurians. They're always right
Problem is that energy clouds don't normally change their readings much, and this one ain't no exception. Odd readings, according t' Mr Fielding. But they just stayed odd. And there are only so many tests you can do on a cloud of plasma and stuff
Ain't my department. I was a pilot, for Pete's sake
So we slowed down to a steady crawl, keepin' pace with the main body of the cloud, and left it like that. Damn thing forced us to make a hundred 'n one course corrections an' hour too. Nothing much happened. Until today
I'd bet my commission (for what it's worth) against us having done anything else. We were doing nothin', except just escorting this Nexus out of the Federation and shooin' it back to where it came from.
It was just a same old day. Me in the chair, signing stuff that my yeoman kept on givin' me. Joe Harris coupla feet to the left, keepin' an eye on tactical and lookin' concerned (hell, Joe Harris always looks concerned about something. Mark of a good exec. He'll get transferred outa this boat before long). Little Nick Fielding behind me, crouched over ops, eager to please. Andy Robertson lookin' bored at navigation.
You gotta love the thrill of deep-space surveying
I remember the moment as clear as stream-water. I'd just raised my hand to sign the latest fuel report, and then there was some blinding flash from over my left shoulder. Just a foot or to from where Nick was sitting
Joe was on his feet before I'd even put two 'n two together, phaser in hand, standing in combat position in front of me, ready to die for his captain
Joe's a trifle naïve sometimes
I rubbed my eyes, tryin' to get the afterflash outa 'em, and gently pushed Joe t' one side. I looked at our newcomer. Looked human. Asian, well, a'least Asian origin. Bit smaller than me. About early thirties - my age. An' in a uniform that hasn't been used for about two centuries
Autopilot kicked in. I went straight inna cheesy first contact mode
"My name is Captain J.G Alexander of the USS Michigan. We're from the United Federation of Planets, a galactic body.."
"It hasn't changed, has it?"
She seemed after bemused, half-wary. Damn odd feeling crept up the back of my neck. I looked a' her, and did my best innocent little girl impression
"What ain't changed ma'am?"
The wariness seemed to evaporate from her face, and she looked straight at me. I looked back, staring a' her eyes, and then suddenly realised somethin'
Whoever the hell she was, she was a damn sight older than most o' the crew combined
She shook her head again, and lightly walked down the steps from the ops deck to the main bridge. I suppose that we were all a bit too nervous to stop her. Even Joe Harris began movin' his phaser to one side
She stopped righta in front of me, and extended her hand. I looked a' her, and did the only thing I could. I extended mine right back at her
"Lieutenant-Commander Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer, USS Enterprise NX- 01. Your records should list me as dead"
Knew I'd seen her somewhere before
"""""""""""""""""""""
One o' the benefits of being on a deep-space mission is that a Fleet historian comes with ya. An' Ensign Thomas is damn good at his job
We'd chucked 'Sato' in the guest quarters, until we could double-check her story.
Turned out that she weren't lyin'.
She was declared missin' in action in 2161. No-one's seen her or her body since then.
An' then she turns up, a'lla sudden. On my ship. Two centuries later. Usin' my guest quarters
By the time we'd checked the Lieutenant-Commander's story, and got back on course, I felt like havin' a long, private word with Miss Sato
Which is why I'm now striding down the corridor, towards Sato's quarters.
I see Fulbright and Macleod up'n front. Figures. Joe would put his two best men on the job. He's like that
I wave them aside as I move towards the door, and they step obligingly to one side, never doubting their Captain
God, the power is intoxicating sometimes
I shake my head on straight, and press the entry pad. An old voice says 'enter', and the doors swish aside to let me in
I have to look for her, she's not in the main livin' area. Eventually, I find her curled up on t'bed, lookin' far inna deep space. She's just wearin' a nightdress, the kinda we lay out for everyone in this quarters
This woman makes my skin crawl. Not that she don't seem perfectly friendly an' all, but it's just the way that she always seems distant, like she's not all there. An' the way that that old, knowin' voice comes out of the body of a young (damn attractive too) woman
She don't seem to respond to my being there, so I go to sit on the bed. We spend, oh I can't be more than five, six minutes there. Me sittin' respectably on the side of the bed. Her curled up beside me, facing towards the window
Feels like the better part of eternity
I jump slightly when she first speaks. The shock of the way her speech slices inna the silence surprises me
"Hug me..."
I looked at her like she's mad, and wonder what the hell she wanna say something like that for
"Commander, I'm y'superior officer"
Her voice hardens slightly, and it seems like an effort for her notta scold me or somethin'
"I'm dead, aren't I?"
I hesitate for a second
"Well, yeah"
"So I'm not a member of Starfleet anymore. And you have no idea what getting over the Nexus is like. So please just help me a bit. Please"
The words on the report Picard wrote snap into my mind, like ice crystals
Being inside the Nexus is like being wrapped up in joy.....
She's in withdrawal from Paradise. A feeling of cold guilt sweeps it's way up from my stomach
I lay down, and wrap my arms around the little asianatic. I wonder about setting up the privacy lockouts, but somehow I don't want to spoil the mood. She's talkative, 'n I need talkative
We lapse back inna silence, with me just spooning her on the bed, like lovers, except with no feeling attached to the moment.
It lasts for about as long as the last silence, before I decide to risk breaking the ceasefire
"Why'd y'leave the Nexus?"
She doesn't reply. The question hangs there between us for a minute, and I'm about to ask it again when she replies.
"It wasn't real anymore"
I longa scream at her 'Whata mean not real?', but I restrain myself. This is her moment, not mine, and I gotta let her tell the story at her pace
"She wasn't real anymore"
She? Who the hell's she? I skip my mind through what the ensign fed me on the Enterprise. My mind flicks through t' senior crew kinda like the pages on a book, until I get my match. It has to be her
She falls back inna her protective cocoon, and I decide to break it again. I don't wanna do this. Honest, I don't. But like it or lump it, I'm the captain o' the Michigan, an' I need to protect my crew.
"T'Pol"
The name does t'trick, so sudden that I'm almost surprised by the great torrents that come out from her. She don't start by small sobs cryin' or something like that. A niagara of tears suddenly spurts outta her.
I can't make out what the hell she's on about through t' sobs, so I just lie there, holdin' her, waiting until she can tell her story.
When she's OK again, I listen' to what she has to say. It lasts for an hour or so, I have t' stop Fulbright 'n Macleod bursting in half-way through. They thought she'd strangled me or somethin'
Tellin' her story seems to take a lot outta Hoshi. By the time I stopped replyin', she's sound asleep
I gently move my way outta from her hold on me, and edge my way out through t'door.
I try notta think about Hoshi lyin' there, half-naked and vulnerable. It's not like I'm some kinda monster or nothin'. It's just been six months in deep space, that's all. Celibacy can do funny stuff t' the mind. That must be it
Must just be the six months talkin'.
Has to be
Disclaimer: This does not belong to me. I'm just playing in the little sandpit that is Paramount's world. I have no candy, so there's no point in getting angry about me using the spade and shovel (if you catch my drift). Captain J.G Alexander and the crew of the deep-space scout USS Michigan are mine by intellectual copyright
Request: I'm not happy with the title of this fic, so if you can think of anything better, please let me know
Missing Paradise
By the Horseman
"""""""""""""""""""
'...among the casualties was Lieutenant-Commander Sato, who was declared missing in action after a plasma storm hit the Enterprise on its way to the Battle of Aragon V...'
from Fleet Personnel file #B191-CJS-27783-Delta; Sato, Lieutenant-Commander Hoshi C (DECEASED)
""""""""""""""""""""
'the Nexus travels through this galaxy approximately once every 31.9 years'
Data - Star Trek: Generations
""""""""""""""
Some days, some days...
Y'know, occasionally, I wish I'd taken Dad's advice. I mean, ol' Doc Tanner keeps on telling me I'd make a great surgeon if only I'd ignore 'all this stupid command track stuff'
Some days..
They say there ain't a race o' people more melancholic in the galaxy than scoutship crew. I laughed when I first heard it. O'course, back then I was the flavour of the month. Youngest exec in the fleet, beatin' even Will Riker over on the Enterprise.
Like they said at the time, if y'consider Riker's record, that ain't exactly a good omen
Day started well enough, considering. We've been trackin' this energy cloud the Enterprise picked up since Sector 029. Call it 'the Nexus'. Weird, but then again I've named weirder in my time. Besides, apparently it was called that by the El-Aurians, and if I've learnt anything out here, it's don't argue with the El-Aurians. They're always right
Problem is that energy clouds don't normally change their readings much, and this one ain't no exception. Odd readings, according t' Mr Fielding. But they just stayed odd. And there are only so many tests you can do on a cloud of plasma and stuff
Ain't my department. I was a pilot, for Pete's sake
So we slowed down to a steady crawl, keepin' pace with the main body of the cloud, and left it like that. Damn thing forced us to make a hundred 'n one course corrections an' hour too. Nothing much happened. Until today
I'd bet my commission (for what it's worth) against us having done anything else. We were doing nothin', except just escorting this Nexus out of the Federation and shooin' it back to where it came from.
It was just a same old day. Me in the chair, signing stuff that my yeoman kept on givin' me. Joe Harris coupla feet to the left, keepin' an eye on tactical and lookin' concerned (hell, Joe Harris always looks concerned about something. Mark of a good exec. He'll get transferred outa this boat before long). Little Nick Fielding behind me, crouched over ops, eager to please. Andy Robertson lookin' bored at navigation.
You gotta love the thrill of deep-space surveying
I remember the moment as clear as stream-water. I'd just raised my hand to sign the latest fuel report, and then there was some blinding flash from over my left shoulder. Just a foot or to from where Nick was sitting
Joe was on his feet before I'd even put two 'n two together, phaser in hand, standing in combat position in front of me, ready to die for his captain
Joe's a trifle naïve sometimes
I rubbed my eyes, tryin' to get the afterflash outa 'em, and gently pushed Joe t' one side. I looked at our newcomer. Looked human. Asian, well, a'least Asian origin. Bit smaller than me. About early thirties - my age. An' in a uniform that hasn't been used for about two centuries
Autopilot kicked in. I went straight inna cheesy first contact mode
"My name is Captain J.G Alexander of the USS Michigan. We're from the United Federation of Planets, a galactic body.."
"It hasn't changed, has it?"
She seemed after bemused, half-wary. Damn odd feeling crept up the back of my neck. I looked a' her, and did my best innocent little girl impression
"What ain't changed ma'am?"
The wariness seemed to evaporate from her face, and she looked straight at me. I looked back, staring a' her eyes, and then suddenly realised somethin'
Whoever the hell she was, she was a damn sight older than most o' the crew combined
She shook her head again, and lightly walked down the steps from the ops deck to the main bridge. I suppose that we were all a bit too nervous to stop her. Even Joe Harris began movin' his phaser to one side
She stopped righta in front of me, and extended her hand. I looked a' her, and did the only thing I could. I extended mine right back at her
"Lieutenant-Commander Hoshi Sato, Communications Officer, USS Enterprise NX- 01. Your records should list me as dead"
Knew I'd seen her somewhere before
"""""""""""""""""""""
One o' the benefits of being on a deep-space mission is that a Fleet historian comes with ya. An' Ensign Thomas is damn good at his job
We'd chucked 'Sato' in the guest quarters, until we could double-check her story.
Turned out that she weren't lyin'.
She was declared missin' in action in 2161. No-one's seen her or her body since then.
An' then she turns up, a'lla sudden. On my ship. Two centuries later. Usin' my guest quarters
By the time we'd checked the Lieutenant-Commander's story, and got back on course, I felt like havin' a long, private word with Miss Sato
Which is why I'm now striding down the corridor, towards Sato's quarters.
I see Fulbright and Macleod up'n front. Figures. Joe would put his two best men on the job. He's like that
I wave them aside as I move towards the door, and they step obligingly to one side, never doubting their Captain
God, the power is intoxicating sometimes
I shake my head on straight, and press the entry pad. An old voice says 'enter', and the doors swish aside to let me in
I have to look for her, she's not in the main livin' area. Eventually, I find her curled up on t'bed, lookin' far inna deep space. She's just wearin' a nightdress, the kinda we lay out for everyone in this quarters
This woman makes my skin crawl. Not that she don't seem perfectly friendly an' all, but it's just the way that she always seems distant, like she's not all there. An' the way that that old, knowin' voice comes out of the body of a young (damn attractive too) woman
She don't seem to respond to my being there, so I go to sit on the bed. We spend, oh I can't be more than five, six minutes there. Me sittin' respectably on the side of the bed. Her curled up beside me, facing towards the window
Feels like the better part of eternity
I jump slightly when she first speaks. The shock of the way her speech slices inna the silence surprises me
"Hug me..."
I looked at her like she's mad, and wonder what the hell she wanna say something like that for
"Commander, I'm y'superior officer"
Her voice hardens slightly, and it seems like an effort for her notta scold me or somethin'
"I'm dead, aren't I?"
I hesitate for a second
"Well, yeah"
"So I'm not a member of Starfleet anymore. And you have no idea what getting over the Nexus is like. So please just help me a bit. Please"
The words on the report Picard wrote snap into my mind, like ice crystals
Being inside the Nexus is like being wrapped up in joy.....
She's in withdrawal from Paradise. A feeling of cold guilt sweeps it's way up from my stomach
I lay down, and wrap my arms around the little asianatic. I wonder about setting up the privacy lockouts, but somehow I don't want to spoil the mood. She's talkative, 'n I need talkative
We lapse back inna silence, with me just spooning her on the bed, like lovers, except with no feeling attached to the moment.
It lasts for about as long as the last silence, before I decide to risk breaking the ceasefire
"Why'd y'leave the Nexus?"
She doesn't reply. The question hangs there between us for a minute, and I'm about to ask it again when she replies.
"It wasn't real anymore"
I longa scream at her 'Whata mean not real?', but I restrain myself. This is her moment, not mine, and I gotta let her tell the story at her pace
"She wasn't real anymore"
She? Who the hell's she? I skip my mind through what the ensign fed me on the Enterprise. My mind flicks through t' senior crew kinda like the pages on a book, until I get my match. It has to be her
She falls back inna her protective cocoon, and I decide to break it again. I don't wanna do this. Honest, I don't. But like it or lump it, I'm the captain o' the Michigan, an' I need to protect my crew.
"T'Pol"
The name does t'trick, so sudden that I'm almost surprised by the great torrents that come out from her. She don't start by small sobs cryin' or something like that. A niagara of tears suddenly spurts outta her.
I can't make out what the hell she's on about through t' sobs, so I just lie there, holdin' her, waiting until she can tell her story.
When she's OK again, I listen' to what she has to say. It lasts for an hour or so, I have t' stop Fulbright 'n Macleod bursting in half-way through. They thought she'd strangled me or somethin'
Tellin' her story seems to take a lot outta Hoshi. By the time I stopped replyin', she's sound asleep
I gently move my way outta from her hold on me, and edge my way out through t'door.
I try notta think about Hoshi lyin' there, half-naked and vulnerable. It's not like I'm some kinda monster or nothin'. It's just been six months in deep space, that's all. Celibacy can do funny stuff t' the mind. That must be it
Must just be the six months talkin'.
Has to be