The New Doctor
By Lieuten Keen
Chapter 36
All hands reported to their stations, and Hoshi brought up on the main screen the faint image of a small ship in the vicinity.
"Looks like we may have a first contact this morning!" Archer chirped gleefully. "Hail them, Hoshi."
The communications officer sent out a brief greeting to no avail. "They aren't answering, Captain," she replied.
"They seem to be pulling away, sir," Mayweather piped up from his controls at navigation, where he was having trouble keeping the small vessel in view as it turned and rapidly fled the area.
"Can they hear us?" Archer asked.
"The vessel may be small, but it is certain that their ship picked up our hail," T'Pol confirmed from her post.
"Should we pursue them, sir?" Malcolm's eyes narrowed. "It's strange that they want to get away from us as soon as we spotted them."
"Let's not jump to conclusions, Malcolm," the captain cautioned. "Maybe they just had an appointment to keep." Jon frowned as something else caught his attention. "Is that jelly on your collar?"
Twisting his head around, Malcolm caught a curse before it slipped out of his mouth. "Sorry, sir," he apologized quickly. "Breakfast was rather rushed this morning." That was mostly true, he thought.
"They just left the range of our sensors, Captain," Hoshi confirmed.
Archer sighed. That was the end of his interesting day. "Why don't you go get changed?" he suggested to his normally tidy tactical officer.
"Yes, sir," Malcolm sat up straight and left when his replacement arrived.
As soon as he was gone, Archer moved toward Hoshi's console. "I hear there was a small altercation in the Mess Hall this morning. Rumor has it there was a food fight?" He spoke quietly hoping that only one pair of sharp ears would hear him. He wouldn't have given much more thought to the matter except for the tell-tale stain of strawberry on Malcolm's collar.
"Not a fight, sir," Hoshi blushed to tattle on her friends. "It was more of a spirited discussion." It might have turned into a full blown fight if the call to the bridge hadn't occurred at an opportune moment.
"Doctor Brainerd seems to excite tempers wherever she goes," T'Pol chimed in. Archer had forgotten that her hearing was also excellent.
"What's the word, Captain?" Trip's voice came over the intercom from Engineering where he waited to give instructions to the mechanical team.
"Sorry for the miscalculation, Trip," Archer told his friend. "I guess there is no first contact for us today."
Down in Engineering Trip sighed silently. "That's okay. We probably needed to work on our hustle." He signed off the com, thinking how nice it might to be to discover something new. Noticing the crewmembers standing around watching him intently, he waved them back to their previous duties.
"Is that butter under your ear?" Hess inquired as she stood at his shoulder.
Trip brushed a hand near his jumpsuit and came away with a pat of butter on his finger. He cursed Malcolm's rampant paranoia and responsive temperament silently. "Gee, how'd that get there?" He feigned innocence.
Hess wasn't fooled. She'd been dining with Hoshi this morning. "Looks like you got caught in the middle," she grinned. "Why don't you go wash up? I can keep an eye on things for a while."
Wryly he smiled. "Thanks. I'll be right back."
He was sure it was only going to take him a minute to kill Malcolm. Pursing his lips as he waited for the lift, he thought it might take two or three minutes to kill Andie, providing he could get the jump on her. Scowling at the poor crewman unlucky enough to share a turbo-lift with him, he retreated to his cabin.
"Where's Phlox?" Andie inquired as she trotted through the double doors. "I thought he'd be here by now?"
"I guess he's a little late this morning," Liz noted dubiously, dropping a leaf into a glass cage.
"It's not like him to be late," Andie frowned. "Frankly, I didn't know he even went into his cabin at all! I thought he just stayed here all the time." She pulled some small medical items from a drawer in anticipation of casualties. "He's usually here for feeding time."
"Good morning, Doctor, Crewman," Phlox hurried through the double doors to Andie's relief. "It seems I overslept this morning. I haven't done that since..." He stared vacantly into space.
When it seemed he wouldn't go on, Liz prompted him. "Since when, Doctor?"
Phlox blinked. He had completely lost the train of thought, and had no idea what he'd been about to say at all. "Oh, since I don't know when," he finished, adding a statement he'd heard other crewmembers say on occasion.
"Sorry," Andie apologized. "I guess I kept you out late."
Liz held back a smirk. When she first came aboard, she'd also been fascinated by the gregarious doctor. Andie would figure out that he wasn't romantic material sooner or later. It never occurred to her that the blond doctor had a different kind of date with the Denobulan last night.
The three of them puttered around, making preparations for personnel that might be making their way into Sickbay. It might be somebody injured during their regular duties, or an accident resulting in the hostile actions of the aliens out the door. Without windows in the med-lab it was hard to tell what might be happening outside.
It wasn't very long before Hoshi sent an all-clear through the ship. Inside Sickbay, the three medical members sighed with relief and went about securing the room for regular duty, and putting away items they had just set out.
"I think I'll catch up on some charts," Phlox announced when they were finished. He parted company and went into his small office. He weaved around the table as he made his way to the small office.
Andie frowned after him. "Does he seem all right to you?" she asked Liz. "His eyes were a little red."
Cutler smiled. "If he had a late night, he might have difficulty getting around this morning. He's not a young man, you know." She looked at the doctor more closely. "Is that peanut butter on your shirt?"
Peering myopically down, Andie sniffed the spot. "Yes, it is." Moving to the eyewash station, she wet a tissue and dabbed at the spot, leaving a wet mark on her scrubs. Deciding that was all the stain she was going to remove, she shrugged and threw the tissue in the waste receptacle.
Shaking off her earlier unease, she turned to face Liz more fully. "So, how scrupulous was Rostov in fixing our imaging chamber yesterday?" A wicked smile invited confidences and Liz fell to gushing about the supreme beauty and charm and intelligence of the engineer.
A tall blond was joined at the turbo-lift by the object of his ire.
"Lyoo-tenant." Trip sulked in an exaggeratedly snotty fashion.
"Commander," Malcolm greeted his pal, tugging his clean collar neatly into place.
Trip glared over his shoulder at his friend.
"You had to throw butter at her?" he accused.
"Yes, sir," Reed answered modestly. It had been amusingly juvenile. "It seemed to be a matter of honor."
"You missed!" Trip glowered.
"Yes, sir." Now he struggled to hold back a grin.
"I had butter in my hair!" Trip hissed. They stepped inside the open doors. "Hess found it!"
"I wore jelly near my ear!" Malcolm protested weakly. "The captain noticed!"
"All because you wanted to watch doctors watching porn," Trip huffed disgustedly as he stepped out of the lift on D Deck and made his way to Engineering. Behind him, he heard a stifled giggle as the doors slid shut. Malcolm hadn't had that much fun at breakfast in a long time.
It was Friday night and a movie promised to claim the attention of many on board that evening. Hoshi had demanded something more soothing than the last selections had been, and had chosen one that Travis insisted on referring to as a "chick movie." He declined his presence, while turning up his nose, although other crewmembers felt differently than the helmsman.
On another deck, negotiations of a similar sort were already under way.
"Come on," Trip begged. "You'll like it!" He knew the promise was rash; it really didn't seem like her kind of film.
"I do not believe it is a question of whether or not I will like it," T'Pol droned, double checking the data on her pad and comparing it to the display panel. "I have a great deal of work to complete."
"You do not!" he argued gently. "You're double checking the readouts for the third time today."
"After I have finished these readings, I plan to meditate," T'Pol informed him. She was uncertain that the control she held over her feelings would hold up to extensive contact with the personable man before her. Three months had passed since her mother died, and although she'd been devouring the latest translations of the discovered religious texts, she still felt less than certain about her ability to manage her feelings. She supposed she could blame that on the Trellium addiction, but deep inside, she couldn't accept that as the complete reason.
Trouble was she didn't really want to know what the complete reason was. The answer to that question seemed inordinately complicated.
"You can't spend all your time alone," Trip told her in the tone that meant serious business.
T'Pol shifted and moved to the next display panel in the science department. Trip moved along with her.
"Are you following me?" she asked, frowning slightly. She caught her reflection in the display and instantly smoothed her features.
"I'm going to nag you until you agree to sit in the dark and watch a chick movie with the rest of us," Trip told her stubbornly. "So, yes, I'm following you." He folded his arms across his chest.
T'Pol pondered his resolve. He really would spend all night following her around, disrupting her concentration and chattering on endlessly about something that struck his fancy. She had no doubt as to his fortitude when he set his mind to it. Drawing a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, visualizing the frustrations he made her feel disappearing on the wind.
"If I have completed my work, then I will join you for the movie," she acquiesced.
"Good!" he grinned. He sobered slightly. "I know you're going through something big right now, but you can't sacrifice your duty to the crew to get through it. Your presence is missed, Commander." He winked at her and sauntered out of the room, leaving her in blissful silence.
Her presence was missed. That thought gave her great pleasure and she chided herself for being relieved to hear it. The curve of her forehead was conspicuously devoid of crevices for the rest of the afternoon as she prepared to attend a 'chick flick'.
A gaggle of men had gathered in the MACO training room where several tables had been set up to play cards. Corporals Woods and Finn had managed to procure a large amount of beer and the testosterone levels were high as some of the crew, mainly men, sought refuge from their more delicate counterparts.
Andie entered the room wearing a black tee shirt with a picture of a puppy chewing on a rawhide toy. Bad to the Bone, the caption read. Her expression was less playful. She'd just secured permission from the captain for the treat she was about to offer, but try as she might, she couldn't bully him into showing his face below decks. "It's better that a captain remains aloof," he told her. She was beginning to wonder how much time he'd been spending alone lately. The catcalls when she entered the room forced the frown to flee her face, and she offered up her stash of cigars.
"One night only!" she told them cheerfully. "Smoke 'em if you got 'em!" She handed out a thin cigar to each player that stretched out a hand. Taking a seat at a table, she accepted the furnished cards and grinned at one of the players. "I'll play long enough to win the pants off you," she playfully threatened Trip, who snickered in response.
"All the women want to take away my pants!" he grinned. "I can't say as I blame 'em!" There were hearty guffaws at that statement, and several loud objections. "I've got about ten more minutes until the movie starts, so do your worst!" he challenged Andie. "Don't light up until I leave though. T'Pol will smell it all over me."
By the time he excused himself, Andie was lightheartedly chagrined that he was still fully clothed. She took the good-natured ribbing from the others with grace, protesting that she was robbed of the chance by the engineer's cowardice. Trip made a face as he stood up.
"Here's someone who needs his pants removed!" Trip joked, pulling the newly arrived Henry Bowman into his chair. Henry stammered and stuttered, taking the cards that were shoved into one hand and the beverage that was shoved in the other.
"We'll make a man out of you, I promise!" Parsons chuckled, slugging him gently on the shoulder. She brushed her ponytail off her neck and plucked the stogie from her mouth as she leveled a glare at the other members of the table. "Who's in?"
Cooper and Mayweather cheerfully dropped their ante in the pot. Andie wavered, but tossed in her chips. In twenty minutes, she still hadn't won anybody's pants, but Henry was waffling between being hated and being adored. In true beginner's luck, he'd won several hands, but he took so long to decide on his moves that his fellow players were likely to throw him out.
The bald man from the security team, known through cruel irony as Curly, slapped Henry on the back. "Never let them tell you how to play when you're winning, kid!" He returned to his seat at the next table and raised his bet against his superior. Malcolm matched his bet and smiled in agreement at Curly's assessment.
Henry choked on the smoke blown in his face by the bald man, but grinned and slurped his beer. He laid down two more chips.
Andie threw in her cards. "I'm out," she sighed. "And I'm done." She stubbed out her own stogie in the bucket of sand provided by maintenance. "I've got to get up early in the morning." She waved at Ensign Black to take her seat. "You look after my Henry, now, y'hear?"
Ian grinned and Henry blushed. Malcolm frowned at her use of the possessive with regards to the young impressionable ensign. He was startled to find he hadn't been paying attention to the betting at his own table.
Although fairly early in the evening, she exited the room with a beer in her hand and in her relief to be out of the crowded room, nearly bumped into Malcolm Reed, who had just lost his hand to the cheerful Curly.
"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. A bottle dangled from his fingers as well.
"Not any sooner than you," she pointed out. She accepted the wave of his hand as her cue to precede him through the door. They wandered slowly through the corridor, the noisy guffaws from the poker games fading in the background.
"I've had a long day," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders to relieve some of the tension. "What's your excuse?"
"I'm not fond of poker," she told him.
"I though you told Commander Tucker that you played well?" he asked, thinking of Trip's smirk when he told Reed that three young Azorians had carried Andie's luggage to the shuttle pod because she'd been lucky at cards.
"I can play poker, I just don't care to," she reiterated clearly, before sipping from her bottle.
At his probing glance, she wrinkled up her nose. "I was lost in a game of cards once. I'd rather not relive the experience." She looked down and brushed away a fleck of cool ash that rested on her tee shirt, missing his curious glance.
Falling into step beside her, he thought he heard wrong. "You lost a hand of cards?"
"No," she replied carefully, as though he was slightly dim, "I was lost in a game of ...you know what? Nevermind." She shook her head and refused to clarify further, sipping from her longneck bottle and wandering into the aft Observation Lounge to watch the stars slide by.
He followed her into the dim room. "How come you're not at the movie?"
"What's playing?" she screwed up her face trying to remember, dropping into a chair.
"Something about a man and a woman falling in love through correspondence." Malcolm flopped down in the cushioned chair on the other side of the narrow table. He wore crisp jeans and a navy blue button down shirt. The deep color and the dim lights turned his eyes to deep pools of shadow. He normally wore his uniform to all the functions on the ship, but tonight he wanted to look more at ease.
"No wonder I didn't go," Andie snorted. "I'd rather be poked with sharp sticks." She kicked off her bear claw slippers and propped her sock feet on the low ledge that ran under all the windows, as she reclined in a similar fashion, tilting her head back.
"Not a fan of romantic movies?" he asked. He sipped carefully from his own bottle.
"I'm not a fan of romance in particular," she told him flatly. "It's just an archaic notion meant to keep women subjugated to men in the hopes that their outdated, impracticable ideals will be realized."
Staring at her in surprise, Malcolm needled her gently. "Tell me how you really feel!" He couldn't remember ever meeting a woman who didn't dream of being swept off their feet.
Heaving a deep sigh, Andie rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Maybe I'm just in a bad mood."
"Perhaps your infatuation with porn is having an unhealthy effect on your perception of romance?" After gleefully throwing that statement into the air, he ducked down in his chair as though he expected her to jump up and throw something at him, peeking at her with merriment.
Instead of attacking, she just glared, although it was possible that her expression alone could cause milk to curdle. "I think you're the one infatuated with porn, you peeping Tom," she snorted derisively. "Ever since I came on board, Phlox has been inquisitive about human sexual practices. Short of performing them for him, a film seemed the most informative method."
Malcolm choked on his beverage at her incongruously prim tone. "Performing them for him? Are you an exhibitionist too?"
"Why? You wanna watch?" she purred, turning a naughty smirk his direction. "There's nothing wrong with sex. It makes you feel good and it's perfectly natural." She tossed him haughty look, punctuated with giggles. "Besides, I'm pretty. He should be so lucky to look at me!"
"I think you overstate your assets," Malcolm assured her easily.
"I think its sweet you've studied my assets with a discerning eye," she tossed back in a cavity-inducing lilt.
They exchanged looks and snickered. A long minute passed.
"So this is peaceful co-existence?" she murmured, tipping her head back and swallowing the last mouthful of beer.
"Yes it is." Malcolm laced his hands behind his head. He paused a moment. "You're contemplating ways to kick my chair over, aren't you?"
Her mouth twitched. "Maybe."
All of a sudden Jimmy's warning came back to her. This guy swims with sharks, her friend said. Stay away from him. Jimmy had a pretty good sense for trouble. Actually he had a knack for staying out of it. When he spoke, she tended to listen to him.
"Thanks for the company, Lieutenant." Andie stood and shoved her feet back into her slippers. "I think I might turn in."
Respectfully, Malcolm stood. "Good night, Doctor." He watched her go, wondering what made her scurry out of the room in such a hurry. Grimacing, he though about his gentle sting. He should have never insinuated she was unattractive. Silently he cursed his inability to connect with women, and decided to study up on the subject by watching the rest of the movie.
Although she returned to her cabin, the chronometer gave away the early hour, and she sighed, knowing she would never be able to sleep. Sitting down at her desk, she fiddled with the pile of data chips ready for her inspection resting next to her console. She picked up one in particular.
Somebody had shoved this disk into her hand on the landing pad of Starfleet Command, and at the time she assumed it came from her friend Jimmy. He'd promised to send her pictures of the ruffians who demanded information about her, and at the time she thought that's what was on this disk, but he always sent a brief note verifying the contents of anything he sent her. He hadn't sent her information about the disk she held in her hands, and until she received confirmation, she was reluctant to view the contents. The waiting was frustrating.
Vowing to lay her tensions to rest, she changed quickly into loose pants and a tee shirt, and went to the gym. After sticking the buds in her ears, she turned on some music, a low thumping rhythm, and set a pace on the treadmill.
Leon followed her and sat on the control panel, occasionally stretching out a paw to catch the bouncing cords that ran from her ear to the tiny device at her waistband. He heard the announcement over the intercom, and hopped down to spin around in circles, watching his mistress. Noticing his odd behavior, Andie pulled the audio buds from her ear and he ran over to the com panel. Stepping off the treadmill, she touched the button and called Sickbay.
"This is Andie," she panted slightly. "Did you call me?"
"Yes, ma'am. You're needed in Sickbay." It was a female voice, Corporal Parsons, she thought.
"I'm on my way." Without further ado, she and the cat trotted easily through the corridors, catching a lift to the familiar sterile room, using her slower pace to service as a cooling down period for her run.
There was quite a conflagration when she arrived. Mayweather and Bowman had sustained what looked like minor cuts, and Ensign Black and Corporal Finn were trying to restrain two crewmen who continued to wrestle, ignoring the outraged screeches of the creatures in their cages.
Andie slipped through the door and stepped right into the middle of the fighting men. "This is my room!" She held up her hands to deflect the fists flying through the air, and at the sight of her, both men took a step back. "You will cease and desist!"
"He started it!" The older man shouted with an accusing finger.
"I did not!" replied the younger man. They moved toward each other to continue their combat.
"Cooper and Nichols, I presume?" she queried of the female MACO who stood at the edge of the dissent. "Their infamy has outreached even mine." Cooper shoved forward with one hand threatening his nemesis, and Andie caught his wrist securely. One quick turn and the heavy man hit the ground with a grunt, kneeling to prevent the dislocation of his wrist from his arm. Parsons stepped in and kicked the knees out from under Nichol, dropping him into a similar position. With a curt tone she indicated that they should remain on their knees with their hands on their head and their ankles crossed to prevent them from further harm.
"If either of you so much as twitches, I'll make you my bitches in ways you can't even imagine," Andie threatened. "Don't make me get unpleasant!"
They remained on the floor, glaring at each other. The handheld scanner proved that their injuries were painful but not life-threatening, so she left them there and moved toward the other injured parties instead.
She reached for Bowman first. He had a cut over his eye. "How you doing, Henry?" she asked, waving a scanner over his form.
"It's my first bar fight, Doc!" he told her excitedly, a far cry different than the nervous young man who'd wandered in complaining of phantom pains when she first arrived.
"Well, since you've gone through Starfleet training, I think you're overdue," she told him, smearing a gel on the wound and applying two adhesive stitches to the cut. "That probably won't leave a scar."
"Are you sure?" She smirked at his disappointment even as she applied a hypo sprain for the discomfort.
"I can hit you again, and make sure there's a mark," Andie offered.
"No," he refuted sadly. "It wouldn't be the same."
Mayweather's lower lip was swelling on one side. "One minute they were playing cards; the next they were flying over the table," he told her, shaking his head. "They knocked the bottle against my lip."
Andie applied a small amount of anesthetic gel to his lip. "You'll live," she assured him. "You and Henry are free to go. Call if there are any more symptoms."
Travis gently chucked Bowman on the shoulder as they wandered out the double doors. "You know, Ensign, the first rule in a bar fight is to duck when a chair comes flying at your head," the navigator teased gently.
New people entered as the two ensigns exited. Doctor Andie waved a scanner over Finn and Parsons and the newly present Woods, ignoring their protests that they were fine. "Commando's always ignore the pain!" she scolded them, but the scanner backed up their claims. "You guys better get that room cleaned up," she released them. "Make sure all the cigars are accounted for and extinguished!" They left.
That left one other man besides the profusely bleeding pair still kneeling on the floor.
"I thought you were going to turn in," Malcolm watched her carefully, noting her running attire.
"I thought I was," she answered lightly, helping the older man off the floor first. "Up you go, Cooper."
"Are you sure you're mentally acute enough to administer medicine?" He was trying for solicitous, but the idea that she'd scrambled out of that room on his account made him nervous.
"I only had one beer," she told him dryly. "I think I'll be fine." It figures that the tactical officer would still be following her around, questioning her motives and capabilities. She brooded that she might never earn the smallest amount of respect from him.
"You're not just going to leave Nichols there, are you?" He pointed to the man still on his knees.
"Yes, I am."
"You can't do that! It's not appropriate!"
"Sure I can," she disagreed. "He's quiet down there."
Malcolm glared.
"Fine, but you better keep an eye on him." She scanned Cooper's injuries and began applying gels and creams to the cuts and bruises. Malcolm helped Nichols to an adjoining bio-bed and warned him with a glare to remain silent.
Andie continued to work with a firm hand, shushing both men when they seemed intent on antagonizing one another, and ignoring Malcolm. Finally she released them, declaring their injuries were not severe, and directing both to bed rest for a couple of days. Malcolm interjected, and signaled Curly to escort both men to the brig for the remainder of the night.
"A guard will check on their condition," he promised her.
"Fine," she agreed testily. "Offer them blankets and pillows," she demanded.
"It's a brig, not summer camp!" he replied in similar irritable temper.
"Golly, I think I made a mistake in their diagnosis!" Andie gasped with exaggeratedly wide eyes. "I think they'll have to spend the night here!" She narrowed her eyes at Reed. "Under guard... In an unsecured ward... Full of sharp objects and things."
He closed his eyes. "Fine! I'll make sure they're warm and comfortable. Shall we extend them a breakfast menu in the morning?" His sarcasm was as sharp as ever. "Perhaps caviar and champagne?"
"Nope!" she cheered up instantly. "Gruel and water will be sufficient. Just let me know before the floggings begin. I'd like a front row seat!"
Shooting a dark glare in her direction, Reed left the room with his prisoners. His concentration was diverted as he wondered whether or not she was actually mad at him. Sometimes women were so hard to read.
Archer was still working when the notice came through that Cooper and Nichols were once again in trouble for fighting with one another. He sighed. Something would have to be done about them. Nichols worked on the science team, and Cooper was a maintenance worker on the engineering team. They didn't have much to do with one another, but every time they were in the same room, they bared their teeth and went after one another like cats and dogs.
Thinking of his dog cuddled with that orange cat, Archer thought he might have to amend that statement, but he was too tired now to think of a better analogy. He shut off his monitor and prepared to go to his cabin to sleep.
"Captain?" Ensign Carter sent a transmission from the bridge where she was at the communications station. "That ship has returned. It's hovering on our periphery as before."
"I'll be right there." He stood and stretched and passed through the short corridor that connected his Ready Room to the Bridge. The gamma shift shuffled in their seats. They were mostly green recruits, fresh from Starfleet training. Ensign Stevens turned from her position at the helm, and Ensign Behr watched him from tactical. Ensign Caffrey was the highest ranking crewmember on board, and she watched the view screen with wide eyes.
"Is it doing anything strange?" he asked the room at large.
"No, sir," Caffrey responded. She was less intimidated speaking to the captain of the ship than the others, but that wasn't saying much. "It hasn't scanned us or returned our hails. It just popped up to have a look, I guess."
"Sir," Stevens piped up. "This ship appears to have left our scanning range."
Once again the mysterious vessel had disappeared.
"Change course, Ensign," Archer told her. "Try and get us closer to the ship. I don't like being watched without knowing who's watching. But don't make it look like we're hunting them. Try and fly...casual," he finished lamely.
"Yes, sir," she replied, pressing buttons to shift the direction of the ship.
"Shall I call for tactical alert, sir?" Behr's hand hovered anxiously over the red button.
"Not now, Ensign," Archer replied, thinking that Malcolm would have asked the same question, but found a way to hide his eagerness to join a fight. "Let's wait and find out if they're hostile first."
Two years ago that course of action would have been sufficient in his mind. After the war in the Expanse, he wondered if he was making the wrong call. Maybe they should attack first and ask questions later.
Sometimes aliens were so hard to read.