The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 29


Phlox wandered into the Mess Hall and helped himself to a late lunch. The morning had passed slowly as he realized how much he'd come to rely on the sassy doctor for noise and movement. She was always fluttering from one side of Sickbay to another, a result, he supposed, of the excessive doses of caffeine she consumed everyday. The commotion was soothing to his emotional state; Denobulan society was known for its hustle and bustle. He'd missed her during her confinement.

Liz Cutler did what she could to keep his mind occupied, but unlike their first year in space when she had a lot of time on her hands, she'd found other friends aboard ship with which to fraternize. Ensign Black put in his time in Sickbay and then spent his off-duty hours with various fellows. Phlox often heard him mention a card game involving flushes and one-eyed jacks. The Denobulan had occasion to wonder how these ailments came to be part of a game.

Holding a plate of food in his hands, he looked around the room. The late hour left most of the tables empty, although there were a few crewmembers seated around the room. As often happened, they didn't seem overly enthusiastic to invite Phlox to join them, although he knew they would happily allow him to join them if he asked. Sighing, he supposed it had something to do with his tendency to help himself to tidbits from their plates. It was a common habit on his home planet that was seriously discouraged among human society. He would be happy to tell them that there were more germs to be found in accepting a hand shake from their fellow species than there were in snatching a snack from someone else's plate, but he wasn't certain that information would comfort them.

Deciding to eat alone for now, Phlox made for a seat near one of the windows. When people came into the Mess, the tables closest to the windows filled up quickly, and therefore it was more likely that the socially adept doctor would have a dining companion before he'd finished his meal if he sat there.

It amazed him that after four years with these people they would accept him as one of their own, but they still had trouble reaching out to him because he was different. Shrugging, he chewed thoughtfully on something Chef called risotto. Humans were no different than many species that inhabited the stars. They would come around eventually.

Doctor Andie had no trouble adapting to his presence or any of his other habits though. She had eagerly watched him clip his toenails to feed to his creatures, commenting on the nutritional value of the discarded clippings. Earnestly she had studied the slime that coated his tongue, offering a sample from her own tongue so that they might compare the oral bacteria the other carried. Andie took a deep interest in papers that Phlox had written over the years, refuting his results in the evenings, often loudly and with boisterous hand gestures. They sat in the background on more than one occasion and compared notes on the social habits of the crew. The female doctor didn't seem to have the same reticence to discuss the personal habits of the rest of the crew; she saved her reticence for questions that were personal to her.

All in all she made for good company, and Phlox found he missed her presence on board. The doors swished open and he raised his face eagerly to greet the newcomer to the Mess Hall. It was Crewman Quill, a member of the science team. She raised her hand in greeting to Phlox, but after she'd filled a mug with tea, she left through the other door, leaving the Denobulan to his own thoughts.


Malcolm found Trip underneath the warp core. All that was visible were the standard issue Starfleet boots.

"You're going to miss the movie," Malcolm teased as he bent down to get a better look at his friend.

"I wanted to get these power relays squared away before we run into another hostile alien species," Trip grunted.

"I hear Travis picked out this film," Malcolm went on, leaning comfortably against the surprisingly cool metal of the core. "It's no wonder you'd remain here and work." An easy smile stretched across his face as though heavy burdens had been lifted from his mind.

Trip slid out of his awkward position and sat upright, wiping his face with the back of his hand and leaving a trail of grease across his nose. "It's pretty quiet tonight. I'm sure he'll have quite a turnout." His glum expression slid past Malcolm's awareness.

"Yes," he agreed. "It's very peaceful." He was relieved to excuse the guards that had been trailing the new doctor. In addition to not worrying about scheduling extra shifts, he was vastly relieved to not go near her to check on their progress.

"You know Lizzie used to give me the cookies out of her lunch sack when we were in school?" Trip's voice was definitely wistful, dragging Malcolm's attention back to him.

"You're thinking about your sister?"

Trip flushed. "Andie makes sure her morning rounds end at the Mess Hall by ten hundred hours, just as Chef sets out the fresh cookies. She brings me one everyday." He sighed. "I didn't get my cookie today."

"I can arrange for a steward to bring you pastries if you like," Malcolm offered, feeling his smile fade at the mention of the volatile doctor.

Trip sighed again. "No, it wouldn't be the same," he added regretfully. He paused. "When we were kids, Lizzie used to give me one of the cookies out of her lunch bag. Not both, of course, but she'd share." Trip's wry grin stole across his face. "She comes through Engineering about nineteen hundred hours to make sure I had dinner too."

It didn't take much to realize that he was talking about the doctor again. "Are you sure your relationship with the doctor is appropriate?" Malcolm questioned tersely.

Trip pinned him with a look. "There's nothing inappropriate about my relationship with Andie!"

"It would not seem so since you've so readily adopted her as your missing sister."

"I know Lizzie's dead, and I know Andie's not really my sister, but it makes me feel better to pretend there's still someone around who cares about me, you know?" Trip's voice tightened with tension.

"She's a dangerous woman," Malcolm countered.

"I can't believe that. Trip shook his head. "You seem to have forgotten, she's saved my life! She's saved yours, too!"

"She could have sent the Klingons to attack in the first place, and then pretended to save us in order to ingratiate herself!"

"I meant from the snow wolves."

A tense silence filled the room.

"If she had confided her fears about the research team..." The argument was getting stale.

"I don't blame her for not trusting you. You've been against her from the moment she stepped on board. That's just not like you!" Trip felt awkward having this conversation in the middle of Main Engineering, but there was no stopping it now. He and Jon had talked for a very long time after Emory left and Trip learned all the facets of Malcolm's in depth search into the doctor. He was chagrined to realize how he'd drifted away from Malcolm during the war. All that effort he'd exerted to get to know the shy armory officer in the first two years had gone to waste in the middle of a hell in which they could all have used some comfort. He had no idea what was driving the quiet man these days.

In turn, Malcolm was squirming inside. He didn't want to talk about his feelings. He didn't want to acknowledge his worries. He just wanted to make Enterprise as safe as possible for every person on board and if that meant exposing the doctor's secrets and turning every one else against her presence, then he was prepared to do it. If Trip hated Malcolm later for driving the doctor away, then that was the price Malcolm was willing to pay. He'd done much worse than that before. He frowned. Those were other moments he didn't like to talk about. He closed his mind to his inner voice.

"Perhaps, Commander," he spoke in an icy voice, "You don't know me very well at all." He pulled his shoulders back stiffly and saluted before swinging around on his heel and leaving the room.

Trip caught the eye of Lieutenant Hess, who'd been trying to discreetly redirect anyone who came in this direction away from the altercation between the two officers. "He's a little uptight today," he explained lamely, feeling like a heel for denigrating the man he called friend.

"He's been a little uptight since we left Earth," Hess agreed in a low voice. "Wonder what happened there?" She shifted on her feet and held out a pad. "The transporter repairs are complete. I'd like to get to the movie, if you don't mind putting off the inspection until morning."

"Sure," Trip agreed absently. "Make a note in the maintenance log and get out of here." Focusing his blue eyes on her deep brown ones, he forced a smile to his face.

The petite woman grinned back. "Good night, sir." She turned and crossed the room to dismiss the repair team before heading back to her room for a quick shower and change of clothes. "Don't you stay up too late working on the old girl, now," she cautioned over her shoulder as she trailed her fingers across the warp engine.

Trip liked the sassy dark-skinned woman. She was sweet as sugar until you pissed her off; then she could rip you a new orifice with the fiery words that flew out of her mouth. He ought to start grooming her to take her own command someday. She definitely deserved it.

Throwing his tools back into his kit, he stood and stretched his aching muscles. Now might be a good time to exhibit a little leadership himself. He went to his quarters for a shower before heading out to find Malcolm.


Jonathan Archer leaned back in his chair, rubbing his neck with his hand.

He'd been going over the maintenance reports, and each item of damage made the ache in his chest intensify. Emory had been his friend, no, more like his father, and yet in the last few days, Jon came to understand that he didn't know the man at all.

Emory was a man obsessed with righting the wrongs of his past. He was fixated with doing what he thought was right, at the expense of human life and Jon had allowed him on board his ship, had welcomed him with open arms and allowed his feelings to overcome his judgment. The old man had used him. Emory wasn't who Jon thought he was.

The same questions rolled around in his head regarding Andie. He'd recruited his tactical officer to take charge and defend his ship, and Malcolm was just doing his job by verifying Andie's qualifications, but Jon had begun to have doubts about the investigation. She'd been the source of several disturbances since she came on board, but she worked very hard. She could also take care of herself in a tense situation. She had instinctively placed herself in danger in order to defend other members of his crew.

His mind turned to the conversation they'd had recently. She'd been part of one of the most gruesome colonization efforts in Earth history. Surviving the dangers on the Donovan Martian Colony had proved more difficult than most adults could endure, and she'd been a child. Although he could find no records of her presence, he didn't doubt that she'd been there. He could hear it in her voice. He believed her when she said her involvement was classified.

Sipping coffee that had grown cold, Jon considered some more recent developments in his own life. He had always hated that word: classified. It was the exact word that the Vulcan's had used against his father's requests for more knowledge of warp engines. When he was small he thought it was the word used to keep knowledge from those that deserved to have it. Now he knew differently. Matters that had occurred in the Expanse were considered classified, and he'd been instructed not to speak of them without clearance. Early in their exploration a colony had been destroyed from the ignition of their atmosphere. Enterprise and her crew had been cleared of any wrongdoing but the matter was still deemed classified. Jon told himself that nobody on Earth needed to know that fifteen hundred people had died there. It was information that had almost torn his crew apart.

Andie's work must be something special indeed if a woman so young could hold the confidence of high ranking officials. If he was honest, he would admit that Gardiner was a good officer, and a good man, if a little hot-tempered. He couldn't believe that the gruff old man would go to bat for someone that wasn't worth it.

Rolling his head around on his neck, Jon found that he was tired. More than anything else, he was tired of feeling like he was making the wrong decision with every move he made. He couldn't imagine why he ever expected the universe to welcome humanity with open arms, but every time it didn't, he had to worry that his decisions would get someone else killed. The weight that pressed on his shoulders whenever he sat in the big chair was wearing him out. He really didn't want to spend his time looking over his shoulder at one little woman. He didn't want to believe that his crew was anything but hardworking deserving individuals.

Most of all he just didn't want to be angry anymore. It wasn't...logical. His mouth twisted into a smile at his subconscious choice of words.

He made a resolution. When Andie returned, they would sit down and have a long off the record conversation even if he had to tie her to a chair. Then they would put this matter behind them and go on about the business of exploring this massive galaxy.

Letting go of his antagonism went a long way to relieving the ache in his chest.


The movie had started and most of the crew was seated in the Mess Hall to watch a film about two kids stranded on an island, but Trip was not among the audience. He was standing outside the door of his friend, ringing the bell with his little finger.

Malcolm opened the door with a distracted expression on his face. "Yes?" His vision cleared. "Commander Tucker!" He stepped back. "Come in, sir."

"This isn't official business, Malcolm," Trip raised an eyebrow reproachfully. "It's a peace offering."

Reed eyed the bottle, glasses and pack of cards that Trip held up, and met the blue eyes that watched him carefully. "I could tell it wasn't an official visit by the way my eyes bled when they got a look at your shirt," he mentioned dryly.

Trip was especially fond of this red shirt with large pineapples and monkeys and put on an injured air. "You don't like my shirt? I ordered one just like it to give you on Christmas," he joked.

Both men grinned, a little bashfully.

"I was working too hard and I just snapped," Trip started.

"I just haven't been feeling like myself lately," Malcolm apologized at the same time.

"That's for sure," Trip snorted. "The crew is beginning to take notice."

Malcolm looked concerned. "I didn't realize my feelings were so evident." He took the glasses that the engineer offered and glanced at the bottle. "Bourbon? Don't you remember what happened the last time we drank bourbon?"

Trip grinned. "I don't think we're going to freeze to death this time." He poured two healthy doses and offered one of the glasses to the tactical officer.

They raised their drinks in a toast.

"To T'Pol's bum?" Malcolm suggested with a wicked glint in his eye.

He received a dirty look. "How about Doctor Andie's bum?" retorted Trip with a glower.

"How about we drink to peaceful exploration?" Malcolm changed his toast.

Trip smirked. "That sounds about right," he agreed. They tipped back their glasses.

"Gin?"

"I thought we were drinking bourbon?" Malcolm teased.

"I meant the game!" Trip waved the cards around.

"That would be fine," Malcolm pulled a stool from his cupboard and they crowded around the desk.

Trip shuffled and dealt out the first hand. Fanning the cards in front of his face, he tried to adopt a casual tone. "So what did you do on Earth?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"After we got back from the Expanse," Trip clarified, feeling his cheeks burn. He wasn't good at subterfuge. "What did you do while you were on Earth?"

"I visited with my family, and I read a few books," Malcolm answered, picking up the king of spades. He threw down the six of hearts.

"That all?" Trip wondered, picking up and dropping his cards without really looking at them.

"Are you fishing for something in particular?" Malcolm asked, eyeing his friend.

Trip exhaled loudly, laying his cards face down on the table in front of him. "Some of the crew thought that maybe something bad happened to you there. You've been sorta short-tempered lately."

Malcolm sipped his drink and leaned back in his chair. "I went to Hayes' memorial service," he admitted. "He was a good officer and he was too young to die. Then I went straight to Starfleet Command to welcome a new recruit, someone I used to know. I can't help thinking that..." His voice trailed off.

"That our lives are in danger?" Trip filled in. Sometimes, even recently, he woke in the middle of the night ready to get back to repairing the ship, something that had occurred often during their war efforts. It was hard to remember that they were safe now.

"I wish that boy would pick another job," Malcolm spoke softly. "The Xindi attacked us from out of nowhere. When we got done with that job, humanity was nearly annihilated by one of its own. Then we were thrown into the middle of a Vulcan-Andorian war. The Vulcans have been a stable faction in Earth's history for longer than I can remember! It seems that nothing we do matters. It feels like the world is falling apart."

Trip leaned back, his cards forgotten. "We're keeping it together out here." He said the words and wondered if he believed them.

"Are we?" Clearly Malcolm had no such dilemma. "In the last two months we've been attacked by wolves and Klingons and asteroids." He chose his words carefully. "I'm not sure I can tolerate losing one more person."

"You're not going to lose anyone," Trip countered.

"I nearly lost the new doctor several times and she hasn't been here very long."

"Andie's not going to get lost," Trip said softly. "She's stronger than she looks."

Malcolm eyed him dubiously. "You're only saying that because she wants to see you with your pants off." That pain in his midsection had to do with a bad dinner choice; it had nothing to do with jealousy, Malcolm told himself.

Trip chuckled. "Don't worry, Lieutenant. I'm sure there's a woman out there right now that wants to take your pants too."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Malcolm retorted, filling the glasses and picking up his cards again. "I wound up alone in our alternate timeline."

Trip thought of the way that the reticent man before him flushed with rage every time the new doctor walked near. "Maybe you were meant for the right woman, not just any ol' one," he suggested. His face softened when he thought of the way that T'Pol's hand on his arm made his knees weak.

Malcolm threw the bottle cap at him and he ducked. "Stop playing matchmaker," he commanded. "I'm a confirmed bachelor." He hadn't failed to notice the softening expression when Trip thought about Andie's infatuation with his pants. He had no idea that the doctor was not the source of the hungry look.

"I promise!" Trip chuckled. "We'll find you some nice lady, a real lady, not some fly by night medic, and she'll treat you just fine!"

"Can we find you a muzzle?"

"Oooh! Didn't know you were into bondage!"

"Gin."

"Gin! We're drinking bourbon!" Trip looked at the cards. "How can you have gin? We just got started!"

"You should pay more attention to the little things, Commander."

"I'm going to get you this time," Trip promised, feeling the liquor flood his head. "And your little dog too!" He was feeling nice and loose now, thanks to the liquid he consumed.

"I have no idea what that means." Malcolm snickered.

They played cards and drank until late in the evening.


Late the next afternoon, Reed rang the chime and stepped into the captain's ready room. "You wanted to see me, sir?" He stood at attention in front of the desk.

"I did, Malcolm," Archer sighed. "I know I said I wanted to know more about Andie, but some new information has come into my possession. I want you to call off whatever investigation you're conducting." He eyed the lieutenant. "That means ending any private inquiries you're conducting as well."

"Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Malcolm kept his eyes on the wall.

He stared hard at Malcolm. "Andie is part of the crew, Malcolm and I don't want there to be any further divisions on my ship."

"Of course not, sir. I would defend her as I would any other person on board, sir."

The 'sirs' were beginning to grate on Archer's nerves. "That's all I needed, Malcolm. You're dismissed."

Malcolm turned to go but hesitated. "May I ask what information you received to change your mind, sir?"

Archer cringed to hear the words leave his mouth. "I can't tell you that, Malcolm. It's...classified."

Reed didn't make a sound, only nodded his head and left the room.