Spoiler Alerts for "Breaking the Ice"; "Fusion"; "Unexpected"; and "Shadows of P'Jem"!

This story is just a lighthearted romp through a question Trip asks himself, and needs an answer to, for personal reasons.

NOTE: This story contains mild sexual themes. If that's not your thing; this isn't the fluff for you.

The Story A Day prompt was to write a story using the MICE anagram: basing the story on Milieu, Inquiry, Character, and/or Event . This is an I(c) story - the focus is on Inquiry, but Trip also makes something of an internal journey on his way to the answer he seeks.

As always, I profit nothing - I just love them.

Critiques and comments always gratefully accepted - they make me a better writer.

So how did Vulcans handle making more Vulcans?

That was the question that had consumed Trip Tucker ever since he put his hands in a box of imaginary-or-so-he-thought pebbles to play a game with a pretty scaled lady, and ended up carrying her child – hers alone, because he was only the host.

So…how the hell did Vulcans do it?

Did they do it?

Did T'Pol?

She looked way too young to be anybody's mama, but Ambassador V'Lar has suggested she was older than she looked, maybe by a lot. So…did she have any little pointy eared children anywhere? A little boy with her serious frown? A little girl with her pixieish face?

Probably not, since she hadn't gotten married to order the way she was supposed to.

So, was she being cheated out of having children when she was supposed to, because she'd decided to stay with Enterprise?

He hadn't thought about that when he talked to her in her quarters and tried to get her to see that what she wanted was worth taking into account. But he'd never considered that, even though she wanted to stay with them, and didn't want to marry Koss (because, logically, if she had wanted to marry him, she would just have gone home and done that, and there would have been no conundrum bad enough that she looked to him, of all people, for advice), she might want children very badly.

After all, she was clearly a woman, and, though he was sure most of the crew didn't see it, he could tell she had a strong maternal instinct. She had a way of fussing over how he and Jon looked, babysitting them, and throwing herself in front of weapons fire meant for other people that reminded Trip of his own mother.

Had she given up her chance at having a baby of her own to be part of this crew? And had she done that because of him; because of the strange attraction that they seemed to have in some weird on again, off again fashion?

Was he any part of the reason she wasn't a mother?

And, just how did they go about making babies on Vulcan?

For him, it all came back to that. He'd asked Kov a question or two, but hadn't gotten to the nitty-gritty before that creep Tolaris had stalked and manipulated and gaslighted his way into T'Pol's head, and damned near done – what? – to her?

He still didn't know what had happened, only that the aftermath had been both terrifying and a revelation, with T'Pol clinging to him, begging him not to let Tolaris take her dreams, and that potentially fatal condition Kov had said she might have, but which T'Pol, once she was feeling more like herself again, all but ordered him to speak about with no one – even her.

Kov had mentioned that Vulcan males only needed to mate once every seven years. But did that mean they couldn't have sex, otherwise?

And what about the women? If they didn't have the same restrictions, yet they were married, how did that work? Open marriages? A lot of unsatisfied Vulcan women?

Was that why every one he'd seen looked so severe, other than T'Pol?

And, if she didn't look like that, then why didn't she?

Had she had lovers? Or, if he was going to use Kov's terminology, mates?

How many?

And why the hell was he asking himself all these questions, when he didn't have any of the answers, and there was someone aboard who had all of them.

But did he have the guts to just come out and ask her?

He wished he'd come up with this idea before V'Lar left. He had a feeling she was old enough and bold enough to tell him. But he hadn't thought to do that, so now –

If he wanted to know, he was going to have to ask T'Pol. He knew that for sure, because he'd already been through the database, and, of course, everything on Vulcan anatomy or physiology or reproduction was marked "Classified." He was sure that was their favorite word, as a species.

What the hell were they so secretive about? Did they clone their babies, or something? Grow them in tubes and decant them later, like they did in Brave New World?

Or were they really so uptight and inhibited as a species that they didn't want to admit that they were of the same old "tab A in slot B" variety as humans?

Or was it that passion wasn't logical, and they weren't going to admit for a second that they were ever, ever, illogical, even for a few minutes every seven years?

Why was he asking himself all these questions? Well, that one he had an easy answer to. He was asking himself because he was frankly terrified to go ask her.

Of course, he was never going to get the answers, if he didn't. As to why he was so eager to have those answers….well, there were some things he didn't even want to ask himself.

But he wasn't going to rest until he knew…knew whether there was any chance at all, ever, that….well, that he and T'Pol could ever come together….that way.

He wasn't going to ask himself whether there was any way to get to that point. Just whether, if they ever did, if their species were…..well, compatible. Not necessarily for making babies…that wouldn't be a good idea in deep space, even if it was possible…but just for the "do my parts and your parts go together well enough to make a little purely illogical magic?"

Not that he could say that to her. Nope, He was going to have to figure out how to phrase it as a line of inquiry, if he was going to get anywhere. Otherwise, she'd shut him down – he was sure of that.

But, if he suggested that he was doing research – maybe the fact that he'd gotten unintentionally with child was his opening, even though it was also damned embarrassing.

Yes! That was it. She was the First Officer, the Science Officer, and a mother hen. She also seemed to be mightily and illogically jealous when he interacted with other pretty women – and, even if she wasn't going to admit it, that meant that the five times she'd deconned his shoulders after Rigel Ten weren't just an anomaly.

Maybe she wanted him to ask her…but she needed it put in a way she could answer and still respect herself as a Vulcan in the morning, so to speak.

He waited until they bumped into one another in an empty Mess Hall at 0300 – five days later. No one else was likely to wander in at this hour…and he'd been carrying a PADD with him everywhere so he'd be ready for this moment.

Now he just had to get up the nerve to do it without losing his nerve.

She was at the dispenser, and she had a PADD of her own, abd he got the idea she wanted company, but wasn't going to ask for it.

That left it up to him.

Trip took a deep breath, and dived in headfirst. "Sub-Commander, would you mind my asking you a few research questions?"

"I am the Science Officer." She came to the table, but remained standing, tea in one hand, and PADD in the other, and he had a strange sense of deja-vu, even though he didn't have any pecan pie tonight.

"Well, these questions might seem a little….personal. You see, I've been giving a lot of though to what happened on the Xryrillian ship…"

That did it. "You put your hands where they didn't belong." She sat down, and stared at him, and her color came up a little. She wasn't going to admit it, but she had very strong feelings about that incident.

"That's just the point. I didn't know that's what I was doing. She never said it was. Now, maybe she assumed everyone else did it the same way, or maybe her people don't think you need to ask before doing that – I don't know. And I think, if we're going to be out here, we need to know, because, in case you haven't noticed, we humans have a way of sticking our hands in things."

"I have indeed noticed, Commander Tucker. I have attempted to persuade you otherwise."

"Not gonna work. It's our nature. But, when it comes to…well, boxes of pebbles – we need to know what to look for. So, what I thought was, maybe we need some guidelines. How various species deal with – well, their versions of boxes of pebbles. For instance, humans – that would be hard to mistake for something else."

"Perhaps not, to a member of a species which employs a medium such as the Xyrillians. I believe this is a useful effort, Commander, and a commendable one."

This was going better than he'd expected. Might as well go all in. "Then – will you help me with it?"

"All the High Command has learned of other species' mating habits is included in the databases acquired with my assignment. I doubt I have anything of value to add."

"Well, now – that's where I think you made a mistake, because there's one species not included in your databases."

She tensed almost imperceptibly. "There is no information on my species. It wasn't necessary for our needs, obviously."

"But – for mine…well, what we don't know…" He left the end of the sentence open, and sipped his sweet coffee, long and slow, letting his eyes close, both to show her he was relaxed, and to give her a little space, because pushing her never really seemed to work.

"Given the nature of my people, it's not likely to present a risk."

Trip tried to cover for the fact that he was a little shocked she was still here talking to him with another sip or two. Then he played his trump card, proud he'd thought of this one in advance. "Okay, I'll grant you that – but remember what happened with the Kreetassans? If we don't have any idea at all how you Vulcans go about these things, then we might just do something like insult your marriage practices." He gave her a grin with his head tipped; she seemed to get a little softer every time he did that.

"I will concede the point. Very well. The mechanics seem quite analogous with human reproductive practices. However, humans are considerably more prolific and unrestrained in their pursuits. My species practices such activities within committed relationships, and generally for the purpose of reproduction rather than – the easing of tension."

Trip bit his tongue. He wasn't going to say anything stupid, and he wasn't going to show her that this bothered him, either.

But he could almost hear the door of possibility slamming closed on his dreams. Why the hell had he wanted that answer so much, anyway?