Chapter 38: Reality Check
There would have been an almost eerie silence in the shuttle pod if it hadn't been for the tortured hum of the engine as Travis pushed the limits of the craft's flight envelope, and then there were the sobs. Those were coming in stereo.
Everybody did his best to pretend they didn't notice that the ship's chief engineer was lying on a gurney on the floor, unconscious and covered by a blanket, but the really frightening sight was that Hoshi and T'Pol were kneeling on either side of the gurney, both of them crying. With Hoshi that was no surprise, as she had only recently been given the chance to show again how much Trip meant to her. While T'Pol didn't sob as loudly, seeing a Vulcan cry, however silently, was heart-breaking, if not downright scary. They had barely left the surface when Hoshi had to perform CPR for the first time. Jon would have been amazed by how ferociously that petite little woman, who'd been in a whole world of problems herself not too long ago, had worked on Trip's body, but the sheer shock about the fact that Trip could perhaps die before they made it back to the ship had practically paralyzed him, and he wasn't alone. T'Pol was in an even worse shape.
When Trip's heart had stopped a second time, he had tried to take over, but to his utter shock Hoshi back-handed him heavily, leaving a very painful mark on his cheek. She was not letting anyone near Trip or T'Pol, reminding him painfully that she had certainly not yet forgiven him for having come back the first time without the chief engineer. He didn't even dare think about what T'Pol's opinion was at that point. Seeing tears on the Vulcan's face was frightening enough, because it meant she had long since reached critical mass.
-=/\=-
Captain Jonathan Archer sat in his ready room, refilling his glass of Bourbon. Frustrated with recent events, he downed the liquid in one go, twisting his face as the drink was burning all the way down his gullet. He called out for Phlox to come in when the door chime announced that the Denobulan had shown up to report to him as ordered.
Without so much as a greeting the rotund alien walked over to him and plucked the bottle from his hand. "I don't think that would solve any problems right now, captain."
Too stunned by the doctor's stern warning, Jon didn't offer any protest against the meddling of the CMO in how he decided to spend his free time, especially when part of his boredom was down to the fact that Phlox kept Rianne busy while they worked on stitching Trip back together.
"How is Trip, doctor?"
"He is stable and will heal with time. I am confident that his fertility will be intact. The Avendeeds have done quite substantial damage though. It appears their image of being quite inept in medical matters has been a gross understatement."
Jon shook his head. "Phlox, is there any idea that makes sense why a bunch of bird people would cut up Trip's private parts?"
"I have a fairly clear idea of their intentions. The simple version is, the Avendeeds wanted to extract Commander Tucker's testicles."
Jon swallowed his nausea. "On the danger of vomiting again, doctor – WHY?"
"I was fairly confused myself until ensign Sato provided the missing piece in the puzzle," the doctor admitted. "She explained to me that the testicles of men are colloquially called 'eggs' in several human languages, obviously based on the fact that they are indeed egg-shaped. We are dealing with a primitive bird-like species that desperately sought to find 'makers'. It should not be too difficult to make the connection, captain."
"Frankly, I'm busy enough keeping myself from retching right now," Jon groaned, feeling ill. "So in essence these birds thought he was carrying two eggs from which they hoped new 'makers' would hatch? What kind of stupid idea is that?"
"We are dealing with sentient birds, who have no idea about humanoid anatomy, captain. And if I may say so, even if it were realistic, such an arrangement would hardly be the most peculiar arrangement in this quadrant. You have to look no further than your own planet. Animals of the genus Hippocampus are known for the fact that the males carry the offspring to term.
Jon sighed. "Phlox, frankly, I don't need a lecture on the reproduction of seahorses. What I need is answers. My tactical officer kills people willy-nilly, my coms officer had to go through rehab due to drug addiction and slapped the living daylights out of me three days ago, and that is nothing in comparison to my science officer making first contact with a hapless race by going completely nuts and brutally beheading their leader. This is not the mission I've signed up for. We are supposed to be explorers, but instead we leave a trail of death and destruction all over the quadrant."
He was surprised that his little rant was answered by a sarcastic snort from Phlox, who shook his head.
"Captain, if you want to know what a trail of death and destruction looks like, I suggest you consult with Lieutenant Reed and have him tell you about a race called Klingons. You started your journey on the ideals of what you saw in so many works of science fiction that humans are so fond of producing, but the reality in space is a different one. Before humanity ventured out here, each and every race kept to itself and many of them were caught up in endless skirmishes with each other.
"The Vulcans and Andorians have been at war for nearly two centuries. Now they are starting tentative negotiations, not only about a peace treaty, but an actual alliance and both races rely on humanity to help build it. You've uncovered two major scandals within Starfleet and corrected many wrongs. Many people, most of which you have named, have taken hard hits along the way, but I would say your mission is hardly a failure."
"But does that justify the death of people?" Jon asked doubtfully.
"Did Commodore M'Gambe and his co-conspirators deserve to die?" Phlox challenged him. "Perhaps not, but it was what awaited them at the hands of the Vulcans for the unspeakable crimes he and his accomplices had committed. Had Lieutenant Reed not taken the deed upon himself, our science officer would have, and she would have had a much harder time to live with the fact."
Jon harrumphed. "She didn't look like she had too many scruples down there on the planet when she killed that bird lady. How am I supposed to trust T'Pol with anything ever again, knowing that whenever she gets jealous she disembowels people in the most brutal way imaginable."
"Captain, what I am about to explain now is strictly confidential. The marriage of Commander T'Pol and Commander Tucker is not a mere formality or a single ritual. They are currently in a process called bonding. In essence, over the next two-hundred and sixty-six days, the length of a Vulcan year, a psychic connection will establish between their minds. I have seen first signs of it just two hours ago on Commander Tucker's brain scan. To explain it in a simple way, once that process is completed, they will be able to sense each others presence, even over great distances and depending on how well Commander Tucker's brain will adapt to basic telepathic stimuli, they might even become able to communicate telepathically."
"They can read each others mind?"
"They can do that anyway during a mind-meld. However, the formation of such a bond has side-effects. Just as it is in many species, once two mates, or four in the case of Andorians, have joined in marriage, with it comes the biological implication of perpetuating the species, which is why in Vulcan females the bonding process triggers an overpowering urge to mate and in the males an equally strong willingness to indulge them."
"And those birds mangled the one part on him that would be needed for that," Jon realized in horror.
"Indeed."
"A week ago Trip could barely walk because T'Pol had been deprived of what we don't really need too many details about, and that had been for a few days only. Trip did not look like he will be able to engage in any form of intimacy of that kind any time soon. What will happen to T'Pol now?"
"As you probably know, humans are quite resourceful in the ways they can provide intimate relief," the doctor said vaguely and much too cheerfully for Jon's liking. "In addition to that, another temporary solution has been devised, but I am not at liberty to discuss that. What I can tell you is that you should think about a way to let the crew know, especially the females, that any suggestive overtures towards Commander Tucker, even if made in jest, would have devastating consequences that would leave Rianne and myself with a lot of work. After all we do not only run sickbay, but the ship's morgue as well."
"Seriously doctor," Jon sighed in frustration. "I can't continue my mission with a Vulcan officer who's basically a ticking time-bomb."
"You have two options, captain," the Denobulan explained. "You can do what Vulcan tradition demands. Newlyweds on Vulcan live one year in seclusion for a reason. That means they would need at least two-hundred days of leave. The second option would be that you ban Commanders Tucker and T'Pol from any further away missions for at least a year and pray than none of the newly posted females takes a liking to the chief engineer."
Jon groaned. "Realistically there's only option one, am I right?"
Phlox nodded, looking dead-serious for a change.
-=/\=-
Pat held T'Pol in her arms, and Anna was shocked about seeing the Vulcan cry, which happened for the second time in just a few days as she had heard.
Damn, why was the friggin' galaxy that unfair? For weeks Trip and T'Pol had tortured themselves, not being able to express their love in the one universal way nature had devised for the purpose, and now that they finally could, and some sort of Vulcan biological mumbo-jumbo actually made it a necessity for her, some oversized chicken-storks had tried to castrate her husband. Not even a less-than-talented B movie writer could have cooked up some shit like that.
She had had her way with a lot of women before meeting Pat, but never had she felt this bad after a tryst with another girl. T'Pol wasn't exactly unattractive, so it should have been a pleasant experience, but the grim reality was that the darn good strap-on seeing-to she had just administered to the ship's science officer had not been an act of love or even lust, it had been an act of necessity, a bona-fide emergency measure, and seeing the Vulcan so ashamed of herself, so humiliated by what she had had to ask for, was breaking Anna's heart.
Thank the heavens for Pat, who used all the Vulcan vocabulary she had learned in Hoshi's language course to whisper an endless stream of soothing words to the ship's science officer. If she would ever get her hands on some of those dumb-ass birds, there would be Chicken Marsala on the menu for three weeks flat.
-=/\=-
"Captain, we've been asked to return to the surface," Hoshi reported.
"What do they want," Jon asked curtly. He wasn't sure that he wouldn't follow T'Pol's example of introducing herself to them after the unspeakable things the birds had done to his friend.
"I received a message from someone called Aika, apparently the successor of Mistril. The language is somewhat primitive, but then speaking with a long beak isn't exactly easy," the coms officer explained.
"Read it to us," Jon demanded.
{_This Aika. You kill Mistril, I first now. Mistril cruel, you kill, we happy. Please come, make peace. Then take as much power rock as needed._}
"Power rock?" Jon asked.
"I think that's what they call dilithium," Hoshi replied. "They are a primitive species, but I think they worked out that we need it to power our ship."
"T'Pol, no offense, but this time we're going without you," Jon said into the direction of the science station. To his surprise the Vulcan merely nodded, not even looking up from her console."
"Hoshi, Travis, you're with me, tell Lieutenant Hess and a team of engineers to meet us in the launch bay."
-=/\=-
"Tooker live?" the bird asked him and Jon nodded as they walked through the primitive settlement. Somewhere in the nearby mountains, Anna Hess and a team of engineers were extracting dilithium ore.
"He will heal."
"We in shame. Mistril cruel, but gone now."
Jon nodded again. This Aika, who was apparently a lot less dangerous and much more intelligent than her predecessor, had apologized at least two dozen times by now.
"Our doctor said he did not expect your kind here?" he asked, trying to keep his sentences simple. The universal translator was still experimental, but the birds' language wasn't very complex, which was why he thought that, even if the device could easily handle the simplistic language, a complex sentence would probably end up as nothing but bird-gibberish.
"We not hatch here," the bird answered. "Big birds eat us and spit out here. Mistril now gone, this world now ours. Take many power rocks and tell other birds without feathers please not come here."
"There are many who need power rocks," the captain said, adopting the bird's word. "Perhaps they have something you need. You could trade."
"When we ready we trade," Aika answered after pondering his suggestion. "You see Mistril. We not ready yet. Meet others too early."
"We hope we'll meet again, one day," he said sincerely and the bird inclined her small head in acknowledgment. He made a mental note to find out what she had meant by being swallowed by big bird and being spat out here. It sounded suspiciously like those birds had been abducted from their home world and been stranded here by someone.
-=/\=-
Phlox carefully checked that Commander Tucker, who was still in an artificial coma, was properly covered. He had tried to hold it off for a day or two longer, at least until he could wake the human up, but the ship's science officer had left no doubt that T'Lara would not accept any more requests to wait. He had wanted to spare the young Vulcan the sight of the comatose engineer with all the tubes and sensors attached to his body.
As if on cue, the young subject of his thoughts came into sickbay, accompanied by the ship's botanist, who like Commander Tucker's wife, and of course ensign Sato, had visited him daily. Together the with Lieutenant Hess, there had been four officers who shared among them the duty of reading to him at night, something that was said to be very effective in helping comatose human patients. In the Commander's case it would not have been necessary, because the coma was artificially induced and would end as soon as the medication would be reduced, but he suspected that the reading was more for the benefit of the women who visited him.
He gently explained to the young Vulcan that the sight might be disturbing, but that her adoptive father would make a full recovery. He also warned her sternly not to touch him anywhere but the chest, arms and face. He didn't think the young one needed to know in detail what injuries he had suffered.
The young female accepted his explanation with a nod. Like the young of most species, she was learning quickly and had a good enough command of human standard by now, but he thought it safer to make his explanation in Vulcan. Those twenty years in the Interspecies Medical Exchange came in handy at times like these.
Quite unsurprisingly ensign McIlway was needed for consoling the child as soon as the two visitors had disappeared between the privacy screen. Crying Vulcans had become a frighteningly common sight in recent days. At least in T'Lara's case there was no reason to worry. Vulcans as young as she was were still prone to outward manifestations of their emotions.
-=/\=-
"Take a seat both of you," Jon ordered and both Hoshi and T'Pol obeyed, visibly insecure about what the captain wanted of them.
"I have spoken with Admiral Gardner and you will most likely be relieved that I had to give away surprisingly little details about your situation," he explained, to which the Vulcan raised a delicate eyebrow.
"You wouldn't think Ambassador Soval has anything to do with that?" he asked her dryly.
"It would not surprise me if the Ambassador has explained all pertinent information about my situation to Starfleet," the ship's science officer replied neutrally.
"I can't say I really understand what's happening with you and Trip, but I know that the last days have convinced me that Phlox is right. There must be a reason for the fact that Vulcan couples live in seclusion for a year. Your mother as the matriarch of your clan and interim first minister has offered her house for your use.
His first officer accepted the explanation with a silent nod.
"Hoshi, I want you to stay on Vulcan as well. After the tumultuous last weeks, I think you could use a bit of timeout as well, and although very reluctantly, the Vulcans have admitted that they have problems translating the Kir'Shara and could really use the help of an exo-linguist."
The young ensign smiled.
"You will also be relieved that I will not press any charges for assault on a fellow officer. I don't claim to understand this situation of Trip and you thinking you are brother and sister, but I understand that you weren't thinking very straight at the time."
He watched Hoshi cast her eyes down. "I'm sorry captain."
"As I said Hoshi, it's history. Just don't make it a habit, because for such a small girl you pack a massive punch."
"You will of course live with me and your brother," T'Pol decreed dryly and Jon felt reminded of the fact that Trip had told him it would happen sooner or later that she would refer to Hoshi as his sibling.
"T'Pol, wouldn't that sort of conflict with the concept of living in seclusion?" the captain asked.
"The term is slightly misleading," she replied. "The Vulcan word literally translates to 'living in peace'. Commander Tucker and I will neither be locked away in the house, nor will we constantly be in each others presence. This time is mainly supposed to keep the two mates close to each other in case certain needs need to be met, and both mates are relieved of normal duty, but it is not uncommon that they still carry out their duties part time on a flexible schedule as long as it allows them to return home quickly if neccessary."
Jon nodded his understanding.
"Beside that, there are ways for us to have the necessary privacy if need be. In fact ensign Sato's presence would be most helpful as we would need someone to accompany T'Lara when my mate and I do need to seclude ourselves. I would also advise that Starfleet makes all necessary resources available to ensign Sato to constinue her work on the Universal Translator. My mother has been a scientist all her life, so communication and computer equipment is installed in her house in abundance and with her brother as an engineer and myself as another scientist, we might make substantial progress during that time. You know how unreliable the UT still is."
"It will be a busman's holiday for Trip, won't it?" Jon asked with a chuckle.
"You don't wanna know his mood if he would be forced to do nothing," Hoshi chuckled.