The New Doctor

By Lieuten Keen

Chapter 55


Two more days had passed since Phlox's departure. T'Pol remained in her quarters long after she'd finished her morning meditation and ablutions. The first officer preferred the quiet of her own accommodations in order to finish a few reports that would be due soon. She was surprised by the door chime. The human crew was accustomed to lingering in bed much longer than Vulcans. It was an even greater surprise to find Commander Tucker at her door. He was a man who treasured his sleep more than almost anything else, second only to his engine.

"Is there any way to turn this ship around and find her dad and bring him up on charges without it seeming like I'd completely lost my mind?" he asked quietly, leaning against the portal as though the portal could sustain his weight when all other foundations no longer could. He'd been mulling the problem over all night long. He felt like he hadn't slept at all.

T'Pol knew he was serious; his voice was low and soft and contained few traces of his usual southern drawl. "What charges would you bring?" she inquired. She had no trouble discerning where his focus lay.

"Child endangerment?" he suggested hopefully.

"Your request is not possible," she answered carefully.

"How can you accept this so easily?" he wondered desperately leaning back against the wall.

The Vulcan stepped past him and began her morning walk to the Mess Hall. The early hour meant the corridors were nearly cleared of personnel. Trip fell into step with her, although he dragged his feet more than usual. She waited to answer until they exited the turbo-lift one floor down.

"There are many aspects of this human crew that were a mystery to me when I first came aboard. Over time I have learned more about humanity and many of those aspects became familiar to me, although others continue to remain a mystery. Are you more troubled about her childhood or by the fact that you were kept unaware of her past?"

That was a good question, Trip admitted to himself. "I feel like my self-control is slipping through my hands like…desert sand," he admitted.

"Ah! Then it is not a serious problem. Your grasp on self-control has often been tenuous."

Trip raised an eyebrow as he hesitated to press the button that would allow them entrance to the dining room. "Are you makin' fun of me?" He thought that if she was, he wouldn't be terribly distressed about that either.

T'Pol declined to answer as she stifled a movement of her lips and pressed the button that he had not. "Before I worked on Earth I served Vulcan Intelligence. That is not something you knew before I came on board. Yet it does not trouble you, as does the historical timeline of the doctor."

The engineer pondered that as he followed her into the room. "Maybe because I know you're a stronger person because of the work you performed there. Or maybe because I know you were a fully functioning adult before you made the decision. The decision was yours to make; not something that occurred outside your control."

"Some things just are. If we cannot change them, we must accept them."

Trip was silent for a moment, taking his time to fill a mug with coffee. "How are you faring with things that can't be changed?" he changed the subject. He stepped aside to allow her access to the drinks dispenser.

The light scent of her tea tickled his nose as she stepped around him again. "I am meditating often and I am studying the Kir'Shara. My work has kept me busy."

"Koss all right with your work habits?" Trip couldn't stop the pang that hit his gut when he mentioned her husband. He couldn't imagine getting married because your parents said you had to, and then not living with your spouse for long periods of time. His distress was just a reaction to a cultural difference. He couldn't even convince himself of that.

"Koss is unconcerned with my work habits," T'Pol replied carefully. Her sudden marriage and equally sudden separation from her life-long intended was a source of emotional turmoil for her still, no matter how hard she tried to calm her feelings about it. Her marriage to Koss had been a convenience intended to save her mother, but it had been a relief as well to distance her emotions from the upheaval caused by the Xindi War. Not only had she given up her career to assist the humans, but she had become addicted to Trellium-D and started an illicit affair with the engineer. Her sense of identity and purpose, even her ability to see herself as Vulcan had suffered. Koss had been so calm, so certain of his place in her life and their union that T'Pol had agreed to it, rather than indulge in any more of the suddenly unwanted human fantasies of passion. She was already hanging on to her Vulcan identity by her fingernails.

T'Pol realized she'd been silent for some time, but had managed to follow the engineer to a table and sit down without incident. She'd been holding her mug of tea up to her mouth as though drinking deeply. Trip didn't seem to notice; he was consumed with his coffee. As he was occupied, she studied his profile. His eyes were clear blue, like the alien Earth sky. His cheeks were warm and pink, not pallid or pasty with the recent fever. Except for the shadows under his eyes, he was returned to his usual health. The last time T'Pol could remember him looking this healthy, he'd been repairing her mother's appliances. He had that kindness in him, just as Koss was kind to want to keep her safe. Koss didn't deserve her uncertainty or the taint their failed marriage would bring on Vulcan, once it was officially over.

"Just make yourself available to her, in times when she might need to confide in you," T'Pol uttered softly. She couldn't be sure which female she meant and dropped her eyes to her bowl of plomeek broth as though just now noticing its presence.

Trip just looked at her with a carefully veiled expression, atypical of his customary gregarious nature. "I'll do that," he agreed softly. He rose, clutching his empty mug. With a quiet word, he exited the room, depositing his dirty cup in the basin designed for such things, and headed back to Engineering where the only troubled dark eyes that would linger on his mind were the ones that belonged to Crewman Rostov, who feared returning to inventory duty in Sickbay.

The only thing he deduced from his talk with T'Pol was that women weren't really his specialty. Trip thought he might learn a thing or two from them though. That's why he gave Rostov the job of picking the movie for the evening, although he limited the choice to a select handful. Hoshi and Hess had both been harping at him to diversify the movie offerings, and get something romantic for a change. He grinned at Rostov's pale face; the dark-haired engineer knew he'd get all the "credit" for this particular film.


At his regularly scheduled appointment hour, Reed slipped into Sickbay for his second round of allergy shots, expecting to find a line of people waiting on the doctor. However, he was surprised to find the physician already at work. She was leaning back in her chair at a work station while sipping coffee from a thermal mug and perusing his medical chart when he walked in. Soft music was piped into the room through the speakers. He thought it might be a Vulcan lute, but he couldn't recognize the piece.

"Morning, Reed," Andie greeted him by swinging her legs down off the table and resting them on the floor.

"Good morning, Doctor." He returned the greeting, thinking that they could probably finish the rest of her stint on board this ship carrying on such riveting dialogue without any harm.

She already had his hypo ready and had scanned him before he'd properly taken his seat on the bio-bed. Assuring herself that his body chemistry had not changed radically since the last time she'd taken his stats, she applied the hypo to his neck and smiled. "I let you go last time, but I'm not in such a good mood today. You make yourself comfortable for about twenty minutes."

"I'll be fine," Reed assured her, holding up the data pad that contained the professional security journal he intended to read as he waited.

"Excellent!" she beamed.

The double doors swished open and she stepped into the main ward, pulling the curtain closed around his bed. She needn't have bothered; after four years, he usually had his allergy treatment with the same people, and she needn't have bothered with secrecy.

However the new entrants were not the anticipated Crewmen Azim and Ross. They were two other young men.

"Good morning," Andie greeted them. Her form was just a faint outline behind the curtain. Reed tried to concentrate on his periodical.

"Morning, Doc!"

Reed glanced up. That voice belonged to the young ensign from engineering. His companion was similar in form and stature. Obviously Henry Bowman had offered to escort his bunkmate Tim Mazaro to see the doctor. Reed went back to his reading.

"If you've got a moment, I've got something you should probably take a look at," Henry babbled outside the filmy curtain as Tim got settled on his own bio-bed. "It's probably nothing, but I'd hate to distribute it to the rest of the crew."

"I can fit you in after breakfast," Andie offered tentatively, glancing at her scheduled patient.

"It won't take long!" Henry insisted.

"If you don't examine him now, he'll just linger and hover while you work," Tim added dourly. "I can wait. I'm not back on full duties yet anyway. I have nothing to do but wait." He sighed heavily, the sigh of a young man tired of lingering in his cabin by himself and anxious to get back to work.

Andie nodded and Henry hopped onto the bed next to Tim. Reed stopped pretending to read when he was obviously just eavesdropping; he watched the shadowy figures moving around outside his white filter. Henry remained sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs dangling down, leaving Andie to stand right in front of him. Their heads were almost touching. Reed wondered what sort of injury the boy had; it couldn't be anything obvious or Andie would have noticed right away without needing to lean in for a closer look.

"That looks serious, doesn't it?" Henry inquired nervously. "You said we should pay attention to any unfamiliar marks on our bodies, right?" Although the privacy curtain maintained the semblance of isolation, voices carried through the wispy fabric without hindrance.

"That's very serious, all right," Andie agreed. Reed thought there might be humor in her voice. "But it's treatable," she assured the young man. She patted his bunkmate on the ankle as she stepped into the pharmacy in the back to get the needed medication.

"You're an idiot!" Tim hissed at his bunkmate.

"No I'm not! I told you it would work!" Henry hissed back. "Shut up!"

The doctor's soft footfalls entered the room again and both young men hushed up. She stepped in front of Henry and applied something to his…arm, Reed thought.

"See? A little isopropyl took care of that right away," Andie announced. Reed was certain she was smiling although he couldn't make out her features from behind his flimsy wall. That medication sounded familiar; he wracked his brain trying to place the chemical.

"Thanks, Doc," Henry expressed his gratitude in a solemn, choked voice.

"I'd recommend staying clear of any more of the pointy objects, in all ranges of colors," she advised.

"Sure, Doc," Henry agreed, sounding chagrined. "Can I stay until Tim's done?"

Reed was certain she would allow it. He opened his mouth to interject but Tim's huff of air was louder than his. "I'm afraid not," Andie stated carefully. "His medical file is still confidential, even to roommates. He'll be done in time for breakfast, I'm sure."

"Right," Henry said in a glum tone as he slid off the bed. "See you later," he called to his friend as he dragged his feet over to the double doors that opened into the corridor beyond.

Something made a scraping sound against the floor. Andie dragged her stool over to Tim's bedside. A blue light filtered through the diaphanous curtain around Reed's bed as she applied the dermal regenerator to Mazaro's throat.

"I told him he was stupid," Mazaro grumbled.

"He's fine," she answered absently. "Don't move."

"He insisted on coming with me," Tim went on.

"It's not a problem," Andie reiterated. "Don't speak or I might sew your ear to your cheek."

"He's the only guy on board immune to some crazy alien disease and he's upset that he gets left out! He's such a hypochondriac! I would love to have been exempt from…"

"Tim?"

"Yes, Doc?"

"Shut up. I'm working. You don't want me to leave a scar, do you?"

Her voice was not as unkind as her words and the boy fell silent. By the time Andie was finished treating his throat, Reed's twenty minutes were up. He remained in his bed and waited to be released. The tactical officer heard her offer some reassurances about the young engineer's condition before she sent him back to his quarters. Tim Mazaro would remain on light-duty for now, much to the boy's frustration from the sound of it.

Andie had greeted both Azim and Ross as they arrived for their scheduled appointments. As soon as she had administered their hypo-sprays and began their twenty minute countdown, the doctor returned to Reed's bedside.

"You feeling funky?" she inquired lightly, running a medical scanner over his form and checking the read-outs with calm professionalism.

"I feel fine," he assured her.

"Then you're released," she told him, making a note in her medical log. "Looks like I won't see you again until next week."

Reed scooted to his feet before stopping in front of her. "What was wrong with that boy?" he inquired.

"What boy?" Andie repeated the question.

"Ensign Bowman," he clarified.

"That's none of your business," she told him softly.

"If he has a disease…"

"It was a red marker," she told Reed quietly so her voice wouldn't carry. "He thought it was a rash. It was just a dot. I cleaned it up with some rubbing alcohol."

"I think he's got a crush on you," Reed told her dubiously. He didn't know why that surprised him; she was reasonably attractive, even with her hair wrapped into a knot like it was.

"Who doesn't?" Andie answered airily. "You'd better get to work. I hear the tactical officer is a stickler for punctuality." One arm extended in the direction of the doorway. She was definitely sending him away before she made her way back to the bedside of those men still lingering in Sickbay.

Reed watched her for a moment before departing. Her entire demeanor had undergone a transformation in the last two days. Her scrubs were crisp, her hair was neatly coiled at the back of her neck and she wore a light blue lab coat. She was orderly, timely and professionally detached. He wondered what had taken her so long to get where she was. He exited the room to the sound of what was definitely one of the celebrated Vulcan lutists playing something quiet and soothing. Reed made a mental note to remember the composer in case he ever had trouble sleeping.


"So how are things with you?" Archer asked, sipping his iced tea over dinner in the Captain's Mess. It had been another uneventful day and he was feeling pretty good about that.

In spite of the amount of time he'd spent on this ship, Malcolm Reed would never get used to having meals with his superior officer as though they were just regular guys. He would always be nervous in the presence of the captain. "Everything is quite well," the tactical officer nodded, picking up his fork gingerly. "I think we'll have the phase cannons back to maximum efficiency within the next day or two."

"That's good news," Jon sighed, staring at his shepherd's pie and wondering how to proceed. "I meant how are you doing, personally? You seem to be recovering from your illness very nicely."

"I'm fine, sir," Malcolm repeated. He looked at his breaded muck and wished the captain was not so enamored of serving British meals when they dined together. He'd been looking forward to the seasoned Tilapia that Chef had been talking about.

"You haven't been overly worked or worried about anything special lately?" Archer continued, digging into his baked crust and toying with the bits of meat and vegetable that he found there.

Reed put a fork full of food in his mouth in order to buy a few seconds of time. He couldn't figure out what answer the captain was looking for. Chewing carefully, he swallowed and sipped his ice water. "I'm concerned that the phase canons aren't working at maximum efficiency," he repeated slowly, watching every facial tick on the man in front of him. "If anyone from the Reef might follow us, we'd be hard pressed to defend ourselves until the weapons are working properly."

Frustrated, Archer spooned another mouthful of food into his gullet. "How was your time on the Reef? Anything there that worries you specifically?"

"Everything about that place worries me, sir," Malcolm acknowledged fervently. "It's a refuge for people existing at the lowest and basest levels of society."

"Would you consider the doctor to be part of the lowest and basest of society?" Archer inquired. Andie probably hadn't had time to talk to Reed yet, so his animosity couldn't spring from the doctor's unconventional background. Jon snorted to himself; now he was referring to her childhood as 'unconventional!' That seemed to be soft-selling it just a bit. He brought his attention back to the table as Reed began to speak.

"I don't think she's base or low, sir," Reed started slowly. "I do think there's a good deal that she's not letting on, and I think her unruly temper might affect discipline on this ship, but…" But she was a skin-trader, his inner voice filled in. No, he corrected, she was not one of them. But she'd certainly worked with them. They regarded her with both respect and fear. She'd done something to earn both. If only he could figure out what exactly that was. Malcolm realized he'd stopped speaking and the captain was staring at him. He shook his head to clear the troubling thoughts. "I don't think she's the lowest common denominator, sir, although I do think she could use some more discipline."

"Would you like to talk to someone about her undisciplined actions?" Archer inquired. Shows how little she knows about him; he was offering professional help without any stigmas attached! He mentally congratulated himself.

"Someone other than yourself?" Malcolm questioned in confusion.

"If you like," Archer agreed amiably, toying with his food rather than eating it.

"I'm quite all right, sir. Thank you for asking." Malcolm's tone was very polite but he was suddenly curious about the motives of the captain inviting him to dine with him on just a moment's notice.

Jon nodded absently as he continued to stare at Malcolm. For a few seconds, the armory officer had been lost in thought, somewhere else entirely as he struggled to voice his concerns about the new doctor. Andie had been sure that Malcolm was talking to people who weren't there, but that could have been the fever talking. So to speak, Jon thought with amusement. He felt more certain than ever that Andie had jumped to an incorrect conclusion when she assumed that Malcolm was carrying around some deep secret. He was just trained to focus on all the details. Nothing would ever get in the way of Malcolm completing his duties with precision. He was quiet and hesitated to speak out of turn, but that was all there was to it.

"Starfleet seems to put a great deal of responsibility on her shoulders," Jon said amiably as he shoveled more of the pot pie into his mouth. "She must be doing something right."

"She seems very young to be holding such responsibilities," Malcolm noted hesitantly.

"I'm sure she's proven herself," Jon sipped his tea again. "She's mentioned some concerns about the crew that may have some merit. She thinks some people may be under some undue stress, and has recommended some extra leisure time."

"Is there anyone in particular, sir? Someone I should keep an eye on?" Malcolm inquired. He put down his fork and studied the captain. A loose canon among the crew was never good for morale.

"I think she was implying that the command staff could use a little extra rest," Archer reassured him, backtracking to keep Reed off the scent of what might be construed an imprudent mention.

"Has Commander T'Pol made any assessments?" Reed wanted to know.

"Why would T'Pol make assessments?" Archer inquired.

"I thought perhaps T'Pol might have suggested some leisure time as a way of securing sufficient time to grieve for her mother," Reed sighed, pushing his soggy vegetables around in the equally soggy pastry bowl.

Archer felt like slapping his own forehead. He'd forgotten about T'Pol's recent loss. "No, it wasn't a request from T'Pol," he denied. Was it customary to send flowers to grieving Vulcans? He'd have to check the data base, and then possibly make arrangements with the biologists in charge of the hydroponics bay to see what they might have blooming. Dr. Andie might have something more colorful in her newly acquired greenhouse. His mind was fully focused on the mental arrangements he was making. "Andie thought…she mentioned that you seemed to be especially tense."

At that Malcolm sat up straighter in his chair. "Me,sir? She thinks I'm especially tense? What proof did she present to you to back up that claim?" He was outraged.

"Relax, Malcolm," Archer tried to head off the explosion. "I think she has a point. We've all been under a great deal of strain and I think we could with some extra leisure time. Our leave on Earth was cut short when we had to chase down the Augments, and I, for one, could have used the full rest period." A dull ache formed in his chest as he thought about cutting short his time with Erika Hernandez. "I know that the Command Council made certain that everyone who wanted it was able to partake of counseling efforts after we returned from the Expanse, although if you'd like to make further arrangements, I'm sure that would be fine, too. Although I think the idea of extra leisure time might be more beneficial."

Jonathan really warmed to the idea of bonding with his crew in a more appropriate setting than a counselor's office. He leaned back in his chair and pondered. "I'll see if we can't schedule some more restful activities for the crew, something other than chasing down pirates and battling renegade Klingons." He grinned widely as he thought of something. "We could open up the conference room in the evenings! The large screen in there is perfect for sporting matches! I've got some water polo matches on tape, and it's the perfect way to introduce the sport to some people on board who've never seen it before!" His green eyes started to shine with delight, as Malcolm tried not to cringe in any visible way.

"That would be lovely, sir. But are you certain that the conference room is the proper place for that? You might consider the Observation Lounges. They are designated as appropriate for crewmembers of all security clearances."

Archer beamed at Malcolm's interest in his favorite sport. "This could be the start of something beautiful, Malcolm!" He raised his glass in a toast, which Lt. Reed feebly duplicated. Inside Reed was seething. He was going to hunt that woman down for reporting him to the captain over something that she had clearly misunderstood, if not outright fabricated.


Malcolm Reed came barreling through the double doors in Sickbay like a tank cutting a swath through jungle. Mindful that others might be in the medical ward, he tried to quiet his footsteps as he came near, but he was so angry he wasn't certain he succeeded. It didn't matter; there was only one person in the room.

"May I have a word with you, Doctor?" he hissed as he approached her seated position from behind.

"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" she inquired, looking up from her paperwork. His appearance was not the silently polite expression he'd offered during his morning exam. Whatever was wrong, he was livid.

"Yes, but I'd rather speak to you in private." The words were bit off as though he didn't want them to linger in his mouth.

Andie looked around at the empty room and raised an eyebrow. Rather than argue with him in this state, she decided to humor him. "Sure," she indicated the office behind her and he followed her in.

Once the doors closed, Malcolm couldn't restrain his outburst. "You told the captain I was crazy?"

"I…What?" she looked puzzled.

"You told the captain I was in need of leisure time! He wanted to know if I wanted some sort of counseling! Do you have any idea what this could to my career?"

At least his anger was understandable. "It might stop you from hurting someone on accident or on purpose?" she suggested. Archer had all the tact of a raging rhinoceros, she thought, mentally rolling her eyes.

"You had no right!"

"As long as I'm acting Chief Medical Officer…"

"Temporary! Acting! Chief!" How he managed to get the words out through his clenched jaw was a mystery.

Andie continued fuming as though he hadn't interfered. "As long as I'm Chief, I'll report the injuries and conditions as I see fit! You don't like it? Get a medical degree and take over!" She stepped through the door behind her and Reed reached out to grab her arm and stop her.

What happened next was a blur. She managed to wrench her arm from his grasp, twist his wrist sharply and send waves of pain radiating up his arm with minimal effort. His eyes watered from the pressure, causing him to stop squirming in the hopes of reducing his injury.

"Don't ever touch me without my permission," she hissed. "Do you understand me?" she demanded when he did nothing but stare at her. In the outer room, tiny creatures growled and fussed restlessly as though the tension was a palpable force in the room.

"I understand. Let go of me," he growled as he was held in place, fascinated not by the strength of her grip, but by the speed with which she moved. She was swift like a striking snake.

Behind them the doors slid open and Andie dropped her hand quickly, leaving Malcolm to rub his wrist where she'd touched him. She departed the office to meet Trip as he entered the room and his look of concern deepened when he witnessed the pair still scowling at one another. "What's going on?" the engineer asked cautiously.

"Nothing important, just a medical consult," Andie waved his worries away with her hand. "Are you injured?"

"No," he answered slowly, watching Reed come to a halt behind her.

"Well then, would you excuse me?" Andie grabbed a data pad and all but fled the room in a flurry of coattails.

Trip turned his gaze on the tactical officer. "What did you say to her?" he demanded.

"Practically nothing," Reed huffed.

"You said something!" Trip pointed out. "She looked angry!"

"She always looks angry," Reed pointed out.

Trip stood straighter. "Would you like to tell me why you're harassing the doctor, Lieutenant?" The use of rank was more than a courtesy; it was a reminder that Trip could demand an answer.

Reed snapped to attention at the authoritative tone, sneaking a quick glance at room to make certain it was empty. "She told the captain that I was acting oddly and he called me in to dinner to inquire about my mental health! I wanted to know where she got her insight into my personality."

"Did she happen to mention that as the tactical officer your behavior has been odd?" Trip asked archly. "You're tormenting her. She might have reason to wonder about that with someone who handles weapons for a living." Trip wanted to speak out, to tell Malcolm that Andie had suffered more than anyone he'd ever known, and that he should cut her some slack, but the confidential nature of her background forbid that, even with his friend.

"You're taking her side?" Reed looked surprised. "She's…." He didn't even know how to finish that statement.

"She's a pain in the ass, I know," Trip assured him. "But she's doing the best she can. You should try to understand her position."

"Try to understand….? Are you…?" Malcolm's objections dried up. He was doing it again. His temper, once unleashed, was difficult to restrain, and he was letting that woman get under his skin. "Yes, sir," he snapped to attention. "You're right, sir. Compassion and understanding are the best reactions in this situation. Thank you, sir."

His friend was giving him a very polite kiss off and although Trip would like to stay and hash out the entire matter, he had more pressing concerns at the moment. "I won't mention this incident to the captain, provided there are no more occurrences of this kind," he said. Trip relented upon seeing the stoic expression return to Malcolm's face; he hadn't really seen that there in three years, not since they got stuck in a shuttle pod. "Cut her some slack, Malcolm," he beseeched his friend.

"I shall do my best, sir." Malcolm snapped off a salute, which made Trip roll his eyes. Tucker offered a return salute that wasn't quite as crisp and exhaled heavily when Malcolm's hand dropped back to his side.

"You should find some way to relax," Trip invited. "You're wound up a little tight. Go to the gym or maybe watch a movie. I can recommend a really good romantic comedy!"

"I really prefer explosions," Malcolm protested weakly. "Although I could use a cup of tea."

"There you go!" Trip clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "A good cuppa and a movie; what better way to spend a Friday night?"

Blowing stuff up, Malcolm thought, but he didn't voice it out loud, instead offering a conciliatory smile at his comrade.

They parted company on an amicable note as they both exited the medical ward. Malcolm returned to the Mess Hall and Trip went off in search of the doctor.


The engineer found her in the greenhouse, studying soil samples under the microscope. She was wrapped up in her work and she looked so small there among the greenery. Trip decided to take a slightly different tactic with her. "You're missing the movie," he chided gently.

"It's romantic nonsense," she muttered without looking up. "They all end the same."

"You could have tried it out," he fiddled with a green leaf.

Andie looked up and noted the worry on his face. "I'm sorry. I'm not really a fan of movies." She placed another slide under the microscope and went back to peering at the results.

"You can't work all the time," Trip pointed out as he pulled up another stool and settled beside her.

"I don't work all the time," she protested, making notes in a PADD. "I'm having a good time."

"Looking at dirt?" He grinned, filtering earth through his fingers.

"Here, help," she directed, dropping a container of nutrients in front of him. "You have no idea the joys of getting your hands dirty."

"Yeah, that's completely beyond me," he responded dryly. He held up his hands which still held traces of the oils used to clean and maintain a Warp Five engine under his nail bed.

"I think your manicure will survive adding a pinch of Nutritional Supplement for Seedlings, Number Five," she nodded sagely, handing over a smaller sack.

They worked together, puttering in the soil, transferring nutrients to the seedlings.

"So what do you do for fun?" he wondered, patting the earth down.

Andie rolled her eyes and repeated. "I like my job. How is that not considered fun?"

The engineer raised an eyebrow.

She ignored his silent prodding and directed his attention to his handiwork. "You're tucking them in too tight. Let the earth be a little looser around the stem."

"I like to get letters from home," he admitted as he aerated the soil with a thin tool. "I got one this morning, although I didn't get a chance to look at it until after dinner. I hear you get a lot of mail too."

Obviously he had something on his mind, she thought. Evidently this was what brought him down to Sickbay in the first place. He just seemed to be taking his sweet time to get to the point. "I move around a lot. The postal service seems to have caught up with me."

Trip picked up a different seedling. "It caught up with me too," he mentioned casually. "I guess whoever was on mail duty today just looked at the surname on the letter and sent it right to my cabin, but the letter I got was actually for you."

Andie grew still. She waited in silence.

"Why would my mother be sending you a letter?" Trip demanded.

"If you read it, I'm sure you have the answer to that question," she responded carefully.

"It's the reason I came down here, instead of watching the movie." When Trip missed Movie Night, something was definitely wrong with the world. He handed over a data disk, and Andie carefully wiped her hands on a towel before accepting it.

His expression didn't give away anything. Rather than try and get him to leave before reading what might be something awful, Andie just slipped the disk into an ever-present e-pad and perused the dispatch. She exhaled deeply and her shoulders slumped as the tension slipped away in a rush. Obviously it was good news.

"What the hell's the Chrysalis Foundation? And why is my mama suddenly the head of it?" Trip demanded.

Andie felt lighter than she'd felt in a couple of days. "I bought a ranch. I planted some aliens there. She's going to help them bloom!" Her legs swung back and forth on the stool like a small child.

"You planted aliens, like seedlings in the ground?" he queried, trying to maintain a scowl and mostly failing. When the lines around her eyes eased away, Andie looked like a little kid in grown-up clothing.

"They needed someplace to go. Only Earth's government didn't think they should be left to their own devices, and I'm too far away to help at the moment, and I hoped that your mother, with her extensive background, could offer them assistance until a permanent head of the Foundation can be found." Andie's grin grew wider. " 'Your mama' offered to help me make them at home."

Trip struggled to look stern. Her cheeriness was contagious and he really wanted to continue frowning. "Where did you find these particular aliens? Was there some discount store on your recent trip back to Earth offering deals on homeless aliens?"

Andie beamed. "Actually you found them." Her fingers drummed on the edge of the table.

"I did?" Trip's eyes widened. "Did I go crazy at the Discount Alien Store again? My credit will never be the same!" He slapped a hand to his forehead.

Now she giggled, clearly in a complete change of spirits. "You found them in the Expanse. The Vulcan transport that was sent into the Expanse after you returned from your mission offered them a trip to Earth and now they have a place to stay."

Trip's silliness vanished. "There's Xindi on Earth?" They may have made the difference between success and failure for his world, but he wasn't going to be happy that they were running amok on his planet after what they did to his sister.

"No, Skagaarans," she stated simply. "Their ancestors were human after all."

Now Trip exhaled in relief. "My mama's teaching those Old West folk how to live in modern society?" His grin returned. "I hope she takes away their guns first thing." He could still smell the acrid smoke in the air after the loud percussion of the ancient projectile weapons.

Andie grinned. "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

Trip puttered with a pile of dirt in front of him, making a smooth tower of dirt before brushing it out flat on the table. "My mom's going through a lot of trouble right now. My folks are in a new house, and they just lost their daughter. Maybe now isn't such a good time to be takin' on a project like this."

"I only offered the position," Andie pointed out. "She was the one to accept it. Besides, work can be a great relief from your personal problems."

"Is that why you're workin' instead of watchin' the movie?"

For all his easy-going demeanor, he was a lot sharper than she expected him to be sometimes. "I have a lot of work to do," she answered simply, turning back to her microscope.

"Maybe you could use some extra relaxation," he pointed out. "Maybe that's why you're bullying Malcolm."

"I'm not bullying anyone," Andie sulked, hiding her expression as she peered into the microscope.

"You're tormenting him," Trip pointed out with a sigh. "He's a pretty decent guy, but you're poking at him, just waiting for him to explode."

"He's not that exciting to watch," she muttered. Her hands fumbled the next slide she was looking at. She was tired, she told herself. That's why her hands were shaking.

"So you admit you have been watching him?" Trip teased. Humor had worked pretty well before; he just figured he'd use humor rather than another attack.

"I have not! He's not that much fun to look at!" That left the wrong impression, and she tried to backtrack. "Not that I've been looking. I'm just trying to do my job!"

Trip eyed her with curiosity. "You're protesting a lot," he smirked. He looked closer. "Are you blushing?" Now his interest was truly peaked.

"I am not blushing. I don't blush. Schoolgirls blush. I am not a schoolgirl. I'm a doctor." Each word was carefully emphasized in order to sound succinct, but the color on her cheeks deepened with every word.

"You sound just like m'sister whenever she'd fancy some guy at school," Trip egged her on. "Do you have a crush on Malcolm?" The idea filled him with glee. After all the mockery he'd been subjected to in the last year by the armory officer, the thought of a little payback was a thought to be relished.

"I. Do. Not." Andie spoke through gritted teeth. "I only like him for his mind. And that's been pretty well scrambled by whatever jackassery he flings my way."

"That's a start," Trip teased. He pretended to sober up. "Come on," he urged. "Tell Uncle Tucker all about your deep and abiding love for his…mind!" He chortled so hard his shoulders shook. He had to duck when she flung a clod of dirt in his direction

"I don't want to talk about this. I'm busy. Go away." Andie reached for another slide, but Tucker placed his hand on top of it.

"Talk first, work later," Trip told her playfully. "You love his mind…?" he prompted when she refused to start. "Was there moonlight? Love sonnets? Or did you just see his head sitting on top of his shoulders and think, 'gee, he's got nice hair?' "

Andie attempted to kick the stool out from under him, but Trip deflected her foot and waited with an ever-widening grin on his face. Stifling his need to giggle like a schoolgirl, he prompted her again. "If you don't spill your guts, I'll just make my own conclusions!"

Tucker wasn't going to let up until she told him something, she thought with resignation. "I have these friends," Andie started hesitantly.

Trip broke the mood when he slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh my God! You have friends?" He was chortling with laughter now. It felt like he hadn't laughed in a very long time.

"I have one less now than I had yesterday," she snapped, sliding off her stool and preparing to leave the room in a fit.

Tucker caught her sleeve to prevent her exit and sobered up with a visible effort. "I'm sorry. Please, continue. You have…friends." He choked on the last word.

"These guys are very smart and very competitive. So…one of them comes home from a trip into space, talking about an alien species and their electromagnetic force shields, and how an invention of that kind would save mankind untold damages and change the world. He vowed that

he was going to be the one to create force shields and win the Nobel Prize." She fidgeted, and seemed defensive about her story.

"And one of them did?" Trip inquired.

"No," she denied. "They are very competitive, so after the first guy says he's going to do it, the second guy vows he'll do it faster and the third guy claims he'll kick all their asses and do it first."

"So the third guy does it?"

"No," she smirked as though her face might crack. "A few months into your first year, some lowly lieutenant sent back reports on the stable EM barrier he whipped up in a couple of days time on board your ship." She could see that Trip didn't fully comprehend the situation. Her grin widened. "The EM barrier is the first step in creating a workable force shield. My friends are really, really, really smart and they were outdone by some guy who blows stuff up for a living." She was positively gleeful now. "They hate him! My friends were going to change the world and Reed left them all in the dust! That never happens!" She sighed wistfully "I'd love to pick his brain. If it wasn't so scrambled all the time," she added hastily.

"You realize you stand a better chance of picking his brain if you stop pissing him off," Trip suggested helpfully.

Andie tilted her head to the side and studied an orchid at an angle as she sighed and thought how nice scrambled eggs sounded at that moment. "Yes, but he's just so pretty when he's mad." She froze and looked at Trip. "I didn't mean it like that!"

The engineer was giggling again. His shoulders shook so hard he feared he'd fall off his stool. "Yes, you did."

"Trip, I…" Andie stopped speaking. "That was completely inappropriate. I'm his medical professional. I can't start a relationship. Not that he'd want one. Or that I'd want one. I tend to poke at him like a stick." She thought of the way Reed sought comfort from an invisible friend. "There's just…there's just more to him than meets the eye."

Trip finally stopped laughing. "You're right about that," he agreed. "But you need to learn to play nice with him. Actually you need to learn to play nice with everybody on board. This isn't a battle ground that you have to conquer; this is a ship full of sensitive people. You're going about this all wrong." His sides hurt from so much unaccustomed laughter.

I have no idea what I'm doing, she thought to herself. "I'll try to do better tomorrow," she promised, slipping off her stool. "I guess it's time for bed." She stumbled just as she reached her feet and Trip steadied her arm gently.

"Whoa! You all right?"

"I guess I haven't been sleeping much lately." Andie thought that might account for her sudden loose-lip syndrome and vowed to fix that problem before it became a habit.

"Here, don't forget your dirt ball." Trip picked the clod of earth she'd flung at him and handed it gently back to her.

"Thank you," she said, taking it back and dumping it into a container of soil. "If you need some more fun and relaxation in your life, you could always get in on the bet. My friends don't believe I'll manage to keep the greenhouse alive for six months."

"No green thumb, huh?" He let his dazzling smile out again to brighten the dim little room.

"Nope, both black," she grinned widely. "I don't understand it. I can keep humans, aliens and animals alive, but I've killed every house plant I've ever potted!"

Trip smirked. "Well then, I might have to take a piece of that action!" He held out a hand when she rose from her stool, and escorted her back into the corridor. "On the other hand, maybe it's best if I don't bet against you. Let's get you into bed, sleepyhead."

Andie grinned. "Men always use the lamest lines to get my pants off."

Trip felt equal parts bemused and embarrassed at his slip of the tongue. "Don't get your hopes up. Your pants are staying on."

"Kinky, Tucker. Very kinky." Andie nodded knowingly as they stepped out of the greenhouse and made their way to the turbo-lift.

Malcolm chose this moment to come by and apologize. After fetching a cup of tea he had decided not to remain for the movie, preferring to drink his beverage in the calming quiet of his cabin. He wandered restlessly around, finally picking up a book. It was a book of poetry, the last item that had belonged to a love whose death had led him to follow a trail that had grown cold before justice had been achieved. Hope had slipped out of his grasp. All he had left was this ship, this job and this crew. And whether he liked it or not, the doctor was a part of this crew.

He had gone to make some sort of explanation to her, but it wasn't as easy as he wanted it to be.

Now he stood in the corridor outside her work station and tried to convince himself to talk to her. His reluctance was understandable; he had a great deal of resentment toward her that he was going to have to work through. Maybe he was tormenting her. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why. When the door to the greenhouse opened, he stepped back into an alcove and waited in the shadows. Habits of secrecy died hard, it would seem.

From the T-junction at the end of the corridor, he watched the blond pair walk together in the direction of the turbo-lifts. The female reached out and looped her hand through Trip's elbow and they grinned at some shared joke.

Of course she would be more comfortable with the amiable Southern gentleman, Malcolm thought derisively. Most women would.

Lieutenant Reed returned to his quarters without speaking to either one.