Chapter 7 – Something Sweet and Something Rotten

0417 hours.

Tracey Carter lay in the two shoved-together beds in the quarters she was sharing with Oscar Tiburón. She was tentatively trying to decide whether to wake up for real.

It was quiet, and it was disgustingly early. The night shift was still working. Even the sous-chef wasn't up yet. Tracey lay there, smelling Oscar's lime aftershave and, while it wasn't unpleasant, it was making her stomach a little iffy.

She'd been that way for a few days already, but had dismissed it, as it hadn't been bad, and she figured it was some small stomach bug and not really anything to talk to Phlox about.

Oscar. His very name made her laugh. It always sounded so silly to her. He had found her laughter charming and cute, and kissed her laughing and then there had been more, much more, and it had gotten … serious.

But his name had still made her laugh, so they had worked out a nickname. Osc had not worked, but Osh – rhymes with Josh – had. And so they had become Trace and Osh, or Osh and Trace, and had lived together for close to a month.

He would get up in the mornings and work out, and she would hustle off to Engineering, and they would share lunch when they could and dinner every night, and then the rest of their evenings, as they more or less abandoned their friends for each other. She smiled a little, grateful for his company, and enjoying his presence, but then he rolled ever so slightly and suddenly his lime aftershave and his apple shampoo and peppermint lip balm all assaulted her nostrils and she ran to the little bathroom and lost the previous night's Chicken Teriyaki.

"Sick Bay, Sick Bay," she whispered to herself, wiping her mouth. It was still incredibly early. This was, possibly, worse than a minor stomach bug. She'd have to tell Tucker. Later. At that moment – 0420 hours – all she could think of was Sick Bay.

She threw a jumpsuit on over just panties, not even bothering with the undershirt, bra and all of that. It just seemed like too much trouble, and she felt too hot for all of that jazz anyway. She inched along, clutching the wall like a drunken sailor.

She got to Sick Bay and Phlox greeted her with the all-too-wide Denobulan grin. That made her run to his bathroom and lose the previous evening's side salad. She emerged. "I have this stomach bug."

"I see," he replied, "Let's take a scan, shall we?"

She was still very tentative, and he ended up helping her onto the scanner bed. The doors to Sick Bay swished open as the bed began slowly sliding her into the scanner. It was Osh.

"What's going on?" he asked as soon as he got in, his voice betraying his concern.

Phlox didn't answer; he just clicked on a PADD and observed the readings on the scanner. All Tracey could think at that moment was Phlox's utter lack of bedside manner. She wanted to be told everything would be all right or at least for Osh to be told that.

The bed began reversing and, as soon as her hand was available, Osh took it and held it. "I'm right here, Baby," he rolled his R ever so slightly.

They both looked up. "I have your findings. Look at the readout," Phlox pointed up.

It was a picture of a tiny thing, shaped a little like an almond or a kidney bean. "Cancer?" asked Osh, alarmed.

"No!" the doctor smiled again, the expression threatening to split his face, "That is your baby."

"Whoa," was all that Osh could say.

"I guess I should've taken the birth control shot," Tracey stated.

"It would only be right if we were to marry," Osh declared.

"Is that a proposal?"

"I guess so."

"Okay, then."

=/\=

The cafeteria at dinner hour was filled with buzzing about Osh and Trace and the as-yet unnamed almond. "Almendra," Osh decided, "we can call the little one Almendra until we know the sex."

"What does that mean?" Tracey asked.

"Almond," Hoshi leaned in, "Congratulations!"

"Thanks," Tracey replied, "I still can't believe it. I wonder how we'll work all of it."

"It's just the first day," Osh told her, "no need to figure out logistics yet, right?"

"You're right," Tracey nodded, still a bit tentative, "Let's just enjoy today."

At a nearby table, Andy Miller and Ethan Shapiro were having dinner. "You doin' okay, bro?" asked Andy.

"Me? Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Whaddaya think of them?" Andy gestured to Tracey and Osh.

"I think she didn't get the shot, or something. Ya gotta figure it's a little unexpected."

"Maybe, but they seem to be okay with it. Uh, and about yesterday, uh, how are you doing?"

"Don't ask."

They ate in silence for a while. Andy looked up and noticed something else, and it made him fidget a bit. "What's wrong with you?" Ethan asked.

"Don't turn around too fast," Andy cautioned, "just be cool, man, and look right behind you."

Ethan did so. "So that's Sandra Sloane. So?"

"So she's giving the look."

"The what?"

"The look. You know."

"No, I have no idea what you're going on about, Miller."

"Sheesh, hasn't a woman ever given you the look?"

"Not me."

"C'mon!"

"Drop it."

"All right," Andy allowed, "but I can't be playing games with this, anyway, I've got a date with a book; Phlox is pushing me to learn some of his simpler tasks. See ya." He bussed his tray and left.

Ethan continued looking out the window, and about jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder. "What the –?"

"Hi." It was Sandra. "This seat taken?"

"Uh, no."

"Bored?"

"Yeah," he shrugged.

"Wanna do something about it?"

"Me?"

"You could bring your friend."

"Er, um," he made a face, "I don't think so."

"Then just you."

"Now?"

"Yeah. Now."

=/\=

They were walking down the hall to her quarters when Ethan realized – Tracey Carter! "Uh, we better stop at Sick Bay."

"Sick Bay? Why?" asked Sandra.

"To get the birth control shot."

"I've already gotten one."

He continued following her and then realized – no. He'd better get his own shot. "This'll only take a second," he turned in the direction of Sick Bay.

"You don't trust me."

"It's, well," he didn't, but she didn't need to hear that, "it's that I hardly think we want two unplanned pregnancies on the NX-01 in the same week, right?"

"Sure," she replied, and he got the distinct impression that she was already getting bored with him.

The Sick Bay doors swished open and Phlox looked up. "Ah, Crewman Shapiro! Are you here for your hypralonine injection?"

"Uh, no," Ethan stated quickly, as Sandra walked in behind him. The door had been open, and perhaps she had heard the doctor. "I'm here for a birth control shot."

"Oh." Phlox went to prepare a hypo.

=/\=

In Sandra's quarters, her communicator chirped. She answered it, only saying, "Get lost, and stay lost."

"Who was that?"

"Nobody."

He moved to kiss her but she rebuffed him. "Huh?" he asked.

"No need," she pulled down the front zipper on his uniform.

"I like to kiss women," Ethan told her, "Particularly if, er …."

"Oh honestly," she snapped, "It's not like we're doing this for love or anything sappy like that."

"But …"

"I'm not her, yanno," She stripped him down to nothing and he stood there, aroused but feeling more than a little bit exposed.

"How?"

"How do I know? Sheesh, everybody knows, it's totally freakin' obvious." He did not make a move to take off her clothes so she did that herself. "Well?"

He stared for a few seconds. She was definitely hot, but he had a feeling in his gut that it was wrong, all too wrong. "I, I can't do this."

"What?"

"I said –"

"I heard you," She found his things and threw them at him. "Get out."

"Huh?"

"I said, out."

He began to put on his shorts – he was still, inconveniently, rather aroused – and she hit the panel to get the door to open, even though she was still naked, and he very nearly was. "Get! But remember this when all of us are taken, and you're all alone. None of those Xindi women will look like me, or like her." Sophie Creighton and Ingrid Nyqvist were walking nearby. They stopped and stared a little.

Sandra smacked the door panel again to close it and flipped open her communicator. "Get over here," she commanded, "I am so horny."

In the hall, Ethan put on enough clothes to be decent and, carrying the remainder, ran, redfaced, back to the safety of his quarters.

=/\=

Ethan Shapiro's Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037

I had no idea I could possibly feel worse. Well, so much for that. I most definitely feel worse than I did before.

I almost – almost – hooked up with Sandra. I am not that sort of a person, really. I don't go around using women for sex. I am not like that.

But I was angry, and hurt, and lonely, and when she gave me the eye, I went for it. And then, oh man! It was, I get the feeling this is what it's like to be with a prostitute. Because she didn't want to kiss, and didn't want to do foreplay, and I got the distinct impression that she couldn't wait for it to be over with.

I left her, or rather, she threw me out; it was a bit of both. And she screamed at me, and there were people in the hallway and of course they must have heard.

Who am I kidding? They heard. So I'll be the focus of Rumor Central. Karin, I know, will hear. I'm certain that this little escapade hasn't done me a damned bit of good with her. Not that that would have happened. She's married to Josh now. I have to accept that.

=/\=

Tracey Carter's Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037

Osh and I will get married soon. Almendra and I are doing quite nicely. I love him. We're gonna be a family.

=/\=

Maryam Haroun's Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037

My roommate, well, my old roommate, Tracey, she is with child. And not married yet! This is not how I was raised, though I am happy for her and for Oscar.

They will wed soon. She has asked me to stand up for her, and I will, although the wedding will be a Catholic one.

And it reminds me, again, of how delayed everything is. I know that Doctor Phlox is not my kinsman. And he is busy with physical examinations for all, not just my two potential suitors. But I am a little dismayed. I want to be a wife, and I want to be a mother.

=/\=

Jonathan Archer's Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037

We'll return to the surface of Amity and see about planting crops. Tripp and Jennifer have refitted a shuttle with what can only be described as a large rake.

As for working with the Xindi, Major Hayes recommends investigating those beasts a bit more, and I agree with him. They may or may not be sentient. It's hard to tell from a distance. The planting will occur on one of the drier continents – we really need to name those continents already – so we shouldn't run into the beasts.

Scafen and Ketton will come along with the Major, Andrew, Travis and a few other MACOs, and they'll check out the beasts while Shelby supervises Chris Harris and the, I guess it's sowing.

The other big thing of note is that there is finally a first pregnancy. Tracey Carter and Oscar Tiburón will become parents. Phlox thinks it'll be in August of next year or so.

=/\=

Sandra Sloane's Personal log, November nineteenth, 2037

The evening was almost a total bust but it was salvaged. Good thing I've always got a backup.

And Shapiro is such a lovesick loser! But have I got a juicy tidbit about him! He's on hypralonine. I looked it up. It's a powerful anti-depressant. I bet everyone will find that really interesting.