Chapter One
A week later, Crewman Miguel Lopez sat in the Science Officer's austerely
furnished office, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. He was struggling
to remain calm, but the fact of the matter was that the Vulcan intimidated
the hell out of him. And he wasn't alone. Many of his friends and fellow
shipmates, who had already survived their first year performance reviews,
had warned him that the experience could be unpleasant in the extreme. As
the second-in-command of the Enterprise, it was T'Pol's responsibility to
ascertain the readiness of all aspects of the ship's operation and report
back to the Captain. And at the moment, it was Lopez's own small portion
of that readiness that was being reduced to its component parts before his
very eyes.
"According to these records, your attendance and punctuality have
been just slightly better than the ship's average. Your scores on
emergency drills and procedures would seem to indicate that more effort on
your part is required, however Lieutenant Reed says that your knowledge of
starship security is commendable, and that your hands-on work in the
ship's Armory has been exemplary. In fact, I am told that your natural
abilities are among the best of the crewmen under his charge. Nonetheless,
there is much room here for improvement."
T'Pol glanced up at the crewman carefully, hoping to gauge his response
to her comments. Noting that he seemed to squirm more actively when she
did this, she quickly turned back to her computer viewer. "Lieutenant
Reed's recommendation, which I have endorsed, is that you focus your
efforts more and refresh yourself with the procedures in which you are
known to be deficient. I have assembled the appropriate reading material
from the training manuals for your review." She held a data card out
to the crewman, who stood and took it, thanking her nervously. T'Pol
waited a moment to see if the young man had any comments of his own.
Unfortunately, she realized that she'd succeeded only in making him even
more uncomfortable.
T'Pol finally slid her chair back from the desk and stood, which the
crewman took to mean he was dismissed. But as he was about to exit, she
called after him. "Crewman Lopez... have you considered applying to
Starfleet's officer training program?"
Lopez hesitated at the opening door, caught off balance. "Uh... no,
ma'am. I mean, no Commander. Uh... Sub-Commander."
"Perhaps you should. I believe you have the potential to make a fine
officer one day, provided you apply yourself with greater enthusiasm. That
is all."
Taken aback, the young man smiled... sort of. "Thank - thank you,
Sub-Commander!" Then he bolted from the room... nearly knocking
Commander Tucker clean off his feet in the process. The poor crewman
mumbled a panicked apology to the Chief Engineer and then fled down the
corridor. When Trip recovered, he looked at T'Pol thunderstruck.
"Fer cryin' out loud, T'Pol! What are ya doing to these kids in
here? Pulling their fingernails off?"
The Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow. "It seems that I have gained
something of a... reputation among the ship's enlisted complement."
Trip laughed. "Guess I don't blame 'em. You'd have scared the pants
off a me too back when I was still wet behind the ears."
At her perplexed expression, Trip explained. "You know, when I was
inexperienced. Fresh off the turnip truck. Green as a... uh, never mind."
He quickly changed the subject. "By the way, I got your little
message this morning."
T'Pol looked at him impassively. "To what message are you referring,
Commander?"
"Give it a rest, T'Pol. Only a Vulcan would've glued those PADDs to
my desk in such perfectly aligned rows. You'll be happy to learn that I
was the laughing stock of Engineering all morning."
Once again, Trip recognized the faint but unmistakable signs of amusement
on her face. "I am indeed pleased." T'Pol shut off her viewer
and prepared to leave. "I assume you are here so that we may continue
our mutual culinary education?"
"If that's yer way of asking if I'm here to take ya to lunch, the
answer's absolutely. Scuttlebutt says there's rhubarb pie on the menu
today and nothin' short of an army of Klingons is gonna keep me from
havin' at it." He stepped aside politely to allow her to exit, then
followed her out.
"I have noticed, Commander, that most of your favorite choices are
dessert items."
"What can I say, T'Pol? I'm a slave to my sweet tooth."
She glanced at him dryly. "Perhaps you should speak with Dr. Phlox.
I'm sure he could remove it for you..."
...
Thirty minutes later, Trip sat back from the table, sliding a half-empty
bowl of something green and chunky away from him. He looked more than a
little green himself. T'Pol glanced up from her dish of rice and
vegetables, searching his expression. "How did you find the spleen
stew, Commander?"
Trip's coloring visibly paled. "Could you stop calling it that? I'm
havin' a hard time with the idea that I just ate a bowl full of... well,
something's organs."
A look of mild annoyance crossed T'Pol's face. "You did not,
Commander. Spleen is a Vulcan legume similar to your chickpea. And you
haven't said whether you liked it or not."
Her lunch companion's relief was obvious. "Well... I like it a whole
lot better now. It did kinda remind me of split-pea soup, except
for all the slimy red bits. Think I liked the plomeek soup better though.
Okay, now it's your turn..." With great anticipation, Trip pushed her
lunch aside and set a thick slice of rhubarb pie in front of her.
"I have not yet finished my Antarian kreel rice..."
He dismissed her protest with a wave. "Don't get yer panties in a
bunch. You can come back to it. Besides... skippin' straight to dessert is
a uniquely Human trait. Consider this research."
T'Pol looked at him for a moment. "Indeed." She picked up her
fork... then hesitated, glancing up at him dubiously. "I trust that
rhubarb is not... something's organs?"
Trip laughed. "No, no! I wouldn't do that to you. Rhubarb's a... a
fruit maybe?" He thought about it for a minute, puzzled. Finally, he
gave up. "You know, I don't know what the hell it is. It's a plant
and it makes a helluva tasty pie. You can look it up later if you like it."
Only slightly reassured, T'Pol speared a small portion of the dessert and
tasted it carefully. Then she looked up with obvious surprise and quickly
took a much larger bite.
Trip smiled in delight. "See? I told you it was good!"
He turned to his own piece and began eating enthusiastically. "That's
one of the things I love about you, T'Pol - your sweet tooth's even bigger
than mine."
T'Pol stopped suddenly and stared at the Commander intensely, his words
having struck a nerve despite her normally impenetrable Vulcan reserve.
Fortunately, he failed to notice her discomfort, engrossed as he was in
his dessert. Unsettled, T'Pol struggled to compose herself and resumed
eating, as the doors to the crowded Mess Hall hissed open nearby.
"My goodness... is that rhubarb pie I smell?"
Both Trip and T'Pol looked up to see Dr. Phlox standing in the doorway.
The Denobulan deftly followed his nose to the source of the delightful
odor, which quickly led him to their table. "Ah, Commander Tucker...
I see you're introducing our intrepid Science Officer to the pleasures of
gastronomic perfection!"
"Better believe it, Doc. You know, there's still a slice or two left
over there. Why doncha' grab one and pull up a chair?"
Phlox beamed at them. "I don't mind if I do!" With that, he set
the reading material he'd been carrying down on table next to them and
trundled off happily toward the food dispensers in search of sustenance.
Trip turned back to his food, chatting around a mouthful of pie. "You
know, my mama used to say that rhubarb makes everything better. Betcha
even the Doc over there'd agree that it's got powerful restorative
properties. What do you think, T'Pol?"
He glanced up at her briefly... and was surprised to notice that she was
staring at him, her gaze fixing him powerfully. This wasn't one of her
normal, condescending glares. T'Pol seemed focused on him to the exclusion
of everything else in the room. And something was definitely wrong. The
Vulcan's skin was flushed, her breathing coming in tiny gasps. Her eyes
appeared unfocused... yet somehow, Trip felt as if she was looking
straight into his soul. He'd only seen her like this once before, that
night after they'd escaped from the Suliban Helix. The night he'd gone to
T'Pol's quarters to tell her how proud he was of her for standing up to
Soval... the only time he'd ever been truly afraid for her.
Unsettled, he reached out, touching her hand in concern. "T'Pol? Are
you all right?"
As if in slow motion, T'Pol looked down at his hand, fixating on it for a
long moment. Then her eyes rolled up to the whites and she collapsed,
falling sideways and striking her forehead sharply on the corner of the
table as she went down. Trip was on his feet and at her side immediately,
as the rest of the room went silent around them.
"T'Pol! T'Pol, can you hear me?" He put his arm around her
shoulders and lifted her into a reclining position, attempting to rouse
her. Moments later, Dr. Phlox appeared beside him and took charge.
"What happened, Commander?" he asked, calmly assessing her
condition.
Trip glanced at him, alarmed. "I don't know! One minute she was
eatin', and the next she just collapsed. Please tell me Vulcans
aren't allergic to rhubarb!"
"Not that I am aware, however each individual's reactive profile is
different." Phlox deftly read her pulse. "Her heart rate is
erratic... but she is breathing. We should move her to Sickbay at
once."
The suggestion of action was all Trip needed. Quickly, but gingerly, he
lifted the unconscious woman into his arms and bolted out of the stunned
Mess Hall, Phlox hurrying out after him. As Trip half-jogged down the main
corridor, ignoring the puzzled stares of passing crewmen, he was struck by
how light the Vulcan seemed in his arms. Falling behind, the Doctor called
after him frantically, urging him to slow down, but Trip barely noticed.
Racing around a junction in the corridor, he narrowly avoided colliding
with a startled Ensign. When he regained his balance, Trip hurried on,
risking a quick glance down at T'Pol. He saw that she was gazing up at him
weakly, disoriented but definitely conscious.
"T'Pol? You hang on! We're almost to Sickbay. Just hang on!"
His voice was sick with worry, but T'Pol was too out of it to notice, her
head lolling heavily against his shoulder. She turned her face into his
neck, concentrating on the heavy scent of his perspiration as it gathered
there on his skin. On any other Human, the smell would have left her
stomach reeling. But on him, she found it... intoxicating.
Moments later, Trip burst into Sickbay, the doors barely sliding aside in
time to allow him to pass. He carried T'Pol to the nearest exam table, and
carefully set her down. As her head fell back gently against the padding,
it was then that Trip noticed how completely beautiful she was. Her eyes
were hooded and fathomless, seeing only him. The green-bronze skin of her
cheeks was feverish and tantalizingly soft, covered in both their sweat.
Their breaths mixed in the air between them, his heavy from exertion, hers
from something else entirely. Trip had just enough time to register that
the tips of her gracefully pointed ears were turning a very deep shade of
green... when he felt her fingers move lightly against his face.
It was as though he'd accidentally touched a hot plasma conduit. An
electric charge blasted across his consciousness, leaving him bare -
stripped of all pretense. For an instant, Trip and T'Pol ceased to exist
as separate individuals, becoming instead something new... something
impossibly together. T'Pol was revealed to him in a way he would
never have imagined possible. What he saw in her was pure... elemental.
For her part, T'Pol was lost on a stormy sea of raw emotion. Waves of
feeling crashed over her violently... his, hers, theirs... and she
rode them willingly, in defiance of all logic. They both realized, at the
exact same instant, that their connection was almost frighteningly sexual.
And it had marked them each indelibly.
Though it seemed to stretch out endlessly, the mind meld actually lasted
for less than a minute... then T'Pol's hand fell lightly away from his
face. They stared into each other's eyes for long moments after it was
over. When they finally regained a measure of consciousness, they were
hyper-aware of their surroundings... and of each other.
Trip stepped back from the exam table, light-headed. "What... what
just happened?"
The Doctor was waiting nearby, having arrived in Sickbay a few moments
behind them. He'd been stunned to find them locked in the brief mind meld,
and had nervously waited for it to run its course, affording them a
measure of privacy. Seeing that it was now over, he stepped forward
quickly, pressing separate, loaded hypos into each of their jugular veins
in turn. "I believe you both had a reaction to something you ate,
perhaps in combination with exhaustion or dehydration or both. I will have
to alert Chef immediately." It was a lie, of course, and they all
knew it. But given the situation, it was the best Phlox could come up
with.
Trip glanced at him, his expression still dazed. "Some reaction."
Then he remembered what happened in the Mess Hall, and turned his
attention back to T'Pol, concerned. "Are you okay? You just...
collapsed and I had to carry you--"
"I am fine, Commander. Thank you for your assistance." Her
voice cracked imperceptibly, and she struggled to get it under control.
"Are you sure? You took a nasty hit on the head--"
"I will be safe in the Doctor's care. If you will excuse me now, I
wish to be alone."
"Oh... okay." Trip hesitated. "Maybe I'll see you later
then," he said lamely, looking at each of them in confusion. T'Pol's
face was once again unreadable. The Doctor merely smiled at him nervously.
Flustered and reeling, Trip finally turned and ambled unsteadily out of
the room.
The moment the door closed behind him, Phlox turned to T'Pol. "The
shot I gave you was, of course, your weekly hormone treatment. It should
alleviate your symptoms soon. The bruise on your forehead isn't serious,
but will take a few days to heal." He paused for a moment, then
continued more seriously. "However, your condition is developing
faster than we anticipated." Phlox hesitated again before broaching
the subject of greatest concern. "Forgive me for being indelicate,
Sub-Commander, but... I couldn't help noticing that you initiated a mind
meld with Commander Tucker. A bonding meld if I am not mistaken."
T'Pol stared at the ceiling silently, her face a blank mask. "It was
inadvertent."
Phlox continued pointedly. "Nevertheless, the effects on you both
will be quite... significant. And possibly permanent. You must to talk
with him, Sub-Commander. As soon as possible."
She turned on him with sudden irritation. "He is an insufferable,
irrational, annoying Human with severe language assembly problems."
Phlox listened patiently to T'Pol's uncharacteristic outburst, knowing
that her words were intended purely for her own benefit. "Commander
Tucker is a veritable fountain of colorful idioms. Nevertheless...
I believe he would understand." He hesitated, then continued more
gently. "If his actions today are any indication, he seems to care
very deeply about you."
T'Pol glanced away. "My well being is not of his concern."
"I see. Well, Sub-Commander... I suspect you will have quite a
difficult time convincing him of that."
...
A short distance away, Trip wandered the corridors aimlessly, his mind on
automatic pilot as he struggled to make sense of things. Without realizing
how he'd gotten there, he found himself standing outside the observation
booth that controlled the ship's launch bays. Knowing it would be
deserted, since all of the Enterprise's shuttlepods were stowed securely
onboard, Trip quickly ducked inside. As expected, the room was empty and
almost completely dark, the only light coming from the various instrument
panels and from the countless streaking stars visible through the
viewports. His composure finally abandoning him, Trip backed into a corner
and collapsed to the floor in shock, his body trembling as the effects of
the mind meld lingered. T'Pol's... presence had faded, but he
could still feel it, haunting the edges of his consciousness. And as Trip
fought to understand what had just happened, he knew only one thing for
certain -- nothing between them would ever be the same again.
--- Continued in Chapter Two ---
