"Are you sure you can't stay through to New Years?" Charlie Tucker pleaded with his eldest son. Trip and Jon arrived yesterday, for a week over the festive season. Alice's British heritage required a decorated Christmas tree and meal shared with close family on the eve of that no longer practiced holiday. Presents, however, were banded. Christmas was, in Mama's opinion, a time to reconnect with immediate loved ones. "Your mother's going to be beside herself, with you and Jon posting to space for the next eight months and that's before learning you won't be attending the Tucker Barbeque to bring in the new year."
"Sorry, Dad," Trip responded in a slightly sorrowful tone. "I really wanted Jon to experience a gathering of over a thousand Tuckers, not that I told him about it because we promised Lee and Pieter we'd meet them in Singapore for a few days."
"I understand, really I do. I'm not sure your Mama is going to though. I guess you're attempting to spend time with all your friends," Charlie asked, managing to hold back a sigh of frustration. The family had seen more of Trip his year than in the four he attended MIT and officer training. His most wayward child managed to make it home for vacation twice and every major birthday as well. Added to that, Jon accompanied his son and the Trip's parents understood the relationship to be powerful and enduring. However, the pair of Starfleet officers had plans for their future, plans that meant Jon and Trip would spend more and more time away from Earth to make their dreams come to fruition.
"Not really," sighing, the younger man shook his head. "This is something that's been organised for a while. Besides, eight months isn't that long. It'll be gone before we know it."
"We're going to miss another one of your birthdays," Charlie tried for a stern expression. I came out worried. "And Jon's. Trip, I can't help but feel there's something going on between you and Jon, something you don't want to tell us about and it's put a bit of a strain on your relationship."
"Dad," Trip whined as he rolled his eyes, "it's nothing, really. We had a real heart to heart a few days back and it's put the both of us in a contemplative mood. Working on the same ship will be hard enough without considering the miniscule size of our shared quarters. Jon's going to be my boss and my boyfriend. We aren't going to be able to get away from one another for weeks at a time."
"Don't tell your mother I said this," Charlie's eyes darted around the living room to ensure his wife wasn't within hearing range. Just to be sure, he moved closer to Trip and lowered his voice. "Marriage is kind of similar. There's always a boss, and that's you mother in this relationship. She's in charge most of the time because I let her be. Makes life easier that way. The trick is making your mother listen when somethings real important to me, so she doesn't make a unilateral decision that's just plain wrong."
"I never would have guessed," Trip responded sarcastically. Sobering, he considered his father's words. "Actually, Dad, it's kind of the same with Jon and me. He's in charge most of the time, until I put my foot down."
"Like taking that apartment," Charlie chuckled, remembering Jon telling the story at his party. He had everyone in fits of laughter.
As if Trip read his father's mind, he said, "in the future, if things go the way Jon and I plan, it might be years before we return home."
"I know and that's what I'm afraid off," Charlie consoled, his expression betraying him. "Doesn't mean I have to like your choice of career. And since when did you start calling me Dad?"
That drew a chuckle from Trip. "I guess when I grew up, Dad."
"Grew up, ha," Charlie took a moment to examine his son, only to realise Trip had matured beyond his expectations. "Jon's been a good influence on you, Trip."
"I think that goes both ways," came the goofy answer. "You know I really do love him."
"I'm sure you do," Charlie couldn't help the delighted chuckle that escaped. He'd noticed the relationship deepened beyond his expectations. Jon steadied Trip, while his son brought out Archer's relaxed side. "Now it's time to tell you mother about your New Year's plans. Just let me get out of the house first."
"Coward," Trip frowned, watching his father disappear out the front door. Shaking his head, Tucker went to face the lioness in her den. To say she'd be unhappy with his plans was putting too fine a point on it, no matter how he broached the subject.
"Why not invite Lee and Pieter here," Alice demanded when she heard the disappointing news. "There's plenty of space now I've redecorated you room so you and Jon can used it when you stay instead of the guest room. We're having an open house New Year's Eve. Another two makes no difference to me."
"I'm not supposed to tell," Trip confessed, lowering his head so his Mama couldn't read the expression in his eyes. He'd never been able to keep a secret from the family matriarch. And he sure didn't want to get into the whole commitment thing when things were still a little raw with Jon. "Pieter and Lee are getting married and I'm one of the best men."
"Oh," Alice gave her son a suspicious glare. "That all? No other wedding bells in the future?"
Hell, Trip mentally scolded himself, I should have expected Mama would smell blood and go in for the kill. I had enough trouble convincing Jon it's not time yet. Mama's a whole other realm.
Jon, sitting on the back porch, watched Trip converse first with his father and then seek out his mother. They discussed how to approach the senior Tucker's with the news. Jon had wanted to do it together, but Trip insisted he could handle his parents. Realising it was time to rescue his boyfriend from the expression on his face, Archer quietly entered the kitchen. Slinging a casual arm around Tucker's shoulders, he could guess at the topic from Alice's glare and Trip's embarrassment. A quick kiss on the temple had blue eyes meeting hazel.
"Go for a run, Babe," Jon advised, his tone making the words an order.
Without another word, the younger man fled. Jon waited until he was sure Trip couldn't hear them, before turning his eyes on Alice Tucker. "Mama," Archer started.
"Don't you Mama me, young man," she let her displeasure be known.
"Mama," Jon tried again, this time modulating his tone and reaching out his hands. Placing them on her shoulders, Archer ensured he captured her blue eyes with his determined stare. "We've been given the great honour of standing up with Pieter and Lee on New Year's Eve as witnesses to their marriage. They've been dating two years and living together most of that time. They want to see in the next year as partners in life. Trip needs to do this. As he reminded me after our first disagreement, Pieter played a very large part in his acceptance of his sexuality. He feels he owes it to his friend to stand up with him."
"And when are you going to make an honest man of my son?" The irate matriarch demanded.
Jon couldn't help himself, he laughed. In doing so, he removed his touch. Catching a furious glare, Archer managed to sober but a smile still played about his lips. "I sounded Trip out a couple of days ago. He's not ready, Mama, he may never be. And," shaking a finger warned Alice to remain silent, "I'm not going to push because I respect your son and want to do what is right for him. I get the feeling when Trip makes up his mind I'll be the first to know and there will be a gold ring on my finger before I catch my breath."
"He never did play by the family rules," Alice grumbled. It had a mournful undertone, as if she'd expected this.
"Trip's one of the most impetuous people I know, but his heart is pure gold," Jon stated. "He has to make the decision in his own time, for his own reasons. He told me so in no uncertain terms. I won't lie and tell you it didn't sting a little. Alice, Trip's still young, not even twenty-two and I'm eight and a half years older. In some ways, we are at different stages in our lives, but we make it work. In this, I have to give way because I love him too dam much not to hang in until he's ready."
"He's stubborn, just like Grandpa Chuck," Alice responded.
"I've come to see the similarity," Jon agreed. "I'll make this promise. If anything happens, you can throw the biggest Tucker family party in history when we visit after the honeymoon."
"I'll keep you too that, Jonathan Archer. And then I'll start on about grandchildren," she promised. "I'm over fifty and only have one grandson. At least Victoria followed the Tucker plan."
Rolling his eyes, Jon knew why it was a trait in the Tucker family.
"Archer to Tucker," Jon hissed. Watching the same starfield for the last two days, Commander Archer's temper bordered on furious. Al Biruni remained stationary just outside the orbit of the asteroid belt. They should have been half way to Jupiter.
"I know what you're going to ask," came the disembowelled voice. "It's going to be thirty minutes before the impulse engines reboot and at least two hours until we have warp. I've finished the upgrades but we're having trouble getting this bucket to accept them."
"So, I'll order the bridge crew to get out and push?" Archer demanded.
"Sorry," Trip stated, not sounding apologetic at all, "I can't spare anyone from my engineering team to help, we've all been on double shifts since leaving orbital last week. Besides, we don't have that many EV suits so it looks like your crews on their own in the pushing department."
"Let me know when we can get moving again," Jon sounded particularly annoyed. "Archer out."
Displeased, the Commander couldn't retreat to his ready room because this glorified cargo carrier didn't have one. There were no recreational facilities, apart from a small mess that acted as the only social space on the ship. Even then, they had to eat in shifts. He'd lost one of the fifteen-person crew to kitchen and clean up duties in the common areas. Every individual was responsible for maintaining their quarters. Trip's most recent upgrades meant the engineers were working fourteen to twenty hours a day, so Jon managed a few hours each night in bed with his lover. He couldn't tell if Lt. Tucker was eating, or living on coffee and cold milk. Trip had a habit losing time when he got in his zone and pushing himself twice as hard as his crew.
Most of the ship capacity had been handed over to freight. The payload would keep the Pluto monitoring station supplied with food until they returned in four months. On the way back, the holds would be filled with Rhenium, one of the rare earth metals found in abundance within Pluto's frozen outer layer. It proved to be the most reliable and unique catalyst for the production of antimatter.
"Jackson, contact Pluto Station," Jon ordered the communication's officer. When the station's Captain appeared on the screen and pleasantries had been concluded, Archer offered his disagreeable news. "We're three days behind schedule."
"I'll order the station to bread and water," Captain Alberto Ricci suggested, keeping a straight face while allowing a twinkle to enter his orbs.
"That's unusually cruel," Archer responded, playing along, "when the Al-Biruni's at fault for not getting your supplies on time. Then again it might get my engineering team working more competently if I offer them the same choice."
A short bark of laugher almost covered the Captain's response. "Never really worked, Commander. The threat of ration packs is something to keep for only the direst circumstances or harshest punishments. I don't know how Starfleet makes them so nauseatingly unpalatable. I'm sure they're made out of carboard."
"You haven't experienced our so-called cook. If I ever get my own ship able to accommodate a chef, believe me, it will be the most exclusive appointment within Starfleet, maybe outside of it," Jon grumbled.
"I'll have our chef and his team prepare something for you," Ricci teased, "when you finally arrive with our fresh produce. Not that you're going to have much time to enjoy a meal. I hear Starfleet has you on a tight schedule. Something about a new antimatter reactor being built at the Complex."
"News travels fast," Jon mocked. "Not my area of expertise. Maybe talk to my lead Engineer, not that he's in my good books right now. Lt. Tucker's on temporary assignment from Captain Jeffery's team."
After signing off, Commander Archer walked to engineering. Al Biruni's design revolved around an elongated oval outer hull, made up of three levels, the lower two exclusively for cargo, accessed via sealed hatches. Life support existed only on the habitation deck. The main corridor, nicknamed the I-95 after a twentieth century through fair down the east coast of America, lead from the bridge at the bow to engineering at the stern. Crew quarters took up the starboard. Portside contained storage, communal hygiene facilities, docking, escape pods and the mess. Thankfully, the commanding officers cabin had the only private bathroom.
Commander Archer found Trip exactly where he expected, half in an access port, muttering obscenities to himself. Three of his engineering crew were scattered about the largest space on the entire vessel working on various parts of the warp reactor. A lone ensign reviewed a PAD while watching the impulse readouts. That left two engineering crew to cover the gamma shift.
The tone of voice from the access hatch changed. It seemed Trip had given an order but Jon would never be able to understand the muffled words. One of the crew manning the warp core responded with a technical phrase Archer barely comprehended. It drew Lt. Tucker from his work, a foul expression on his features.
"Commander," he nodded, noticing Jon but trying to ignore him in an effort to get his baby back on line.
"Up grades not going to well?" Archer asked sardonically.
"You could say that," Trip groused, before starting a long explanation.
"Stop," Jon held up a hand, "you know I don't understand half of what you're saying. I want the warp engine back on-line ASAP, Lieutenant. We are three days behind schedule as it is. Then I want your team to take some down time. I don't like the hours this department's putting in."
"Yes, Sir," Tucker ground out between gritted teeth, knowing Jon was right but not wanting to admit it.
Archer ignored he evil glare his lead Engineer levelled at him. "I expect everyone at evening meal. From now on, Crewman Van will only be cooking one meal a day and I use that term very loosely. Breakfast and lunch will be prepared and left in the stasis unit or cold and buffet style. Make the changes with your crew, Trip. That's an order." Jon got in before the younger man started to complain.
"Aye, Sir," Tucker's blue eyes expressed his feelings but his brain had enough sense to keep his mouth firmly closed. They'd talked about this; the times Jon would have to issue orders Trip didn't like or agree with. "1900, all crew to report to the ships mess and regular duty shifts starting tomorrow."
"And call me the minute we have the warp engines back on line. I don't want to lose any more time, we're on a tight schedule as it is." Archer hardened his glare before pivoting and marching out.
"Lieutenant," Crewman Murchison asked, her voice carrying a note of reluctance at the interruption. She'd never seen Archer and Tucker cross swords before. Everyone on board knew they were together. Unlike the previous commander and her engineer husband, this pair seemed to calm by comparison, although Trip did wind Archer up occasionally. Then again, practical jokes and repartee seemed to be part of Lt. Tucker's nature.
"There's more than one way to skin a cat, Daisey," Trip smirked impishly. "Commander Archer never did get the finer points of warp mechanics. Let's get that assembly accepting the intermix. I'm thinking this girl likes to run with less antimatter, so take it down by ten percent and try again."
"Yes, Sir," Murchison returned to her station and made the changes.
"Hallow, Reyes," Trip called, climbing back into his access hatch and tinkering with the relays, "give me pressure reading on the manifold and injectors every thirty seconds." The minutes ticked by before Tucker ordered, "Daisey, down another five percent. She's still not happy, but we're getting closer."
"Within normal tolerances, Lieutenant," Crewman Reyes stated as he sounded off the latest pressure more than an hour later.
Allowing his face to infuse with pride, Tucker backed out. Turning to his team, he praised their effort. "Ensign Hallow, inform the Commander he has warp engines ready at his convenience. Oh, and you might like to tell him that she'll probably cruse at one point one or two with the upgrades but he's not to push her above one point three for any length of time. The engines need to break in the upgrades gradually. That should make up about forty-eight to sixty hours lost time."
"You can put that shit eating grin away, Babe," Jon stated the moment they entered quarters the same evening. He'd deliberately used the appellation he knew Trip hated to prove his point.
Annoyed, Archer sat through a seemingly casual lecture from the engineering compliment about logarithmic warp scales over dinner. The mood teasing, Trip's crew were high on their success and the bridge crew happy to be back on course. Lt. Tucker might not have said a word, but his eyes challenged Jon throughout the meal. Keeping his back straight and command face firmly fixed, Archer didn't bite. He'd waited to exact his revenge.
"Nope, Old Man," Trip finally let his euphoria out. "I told you, it's the same engine as Hypatia, it's just the outside casing that's different. Al-Biruni likes to run with a little less antimatter in the intermix, that's the reason we only got one point one five out of her. So, we'll be three hours late to Pluto. You shouldn't have said anything to Captain Ricci until I told you I couldn't do the job. You got to learn to trust me, Jon, on a professional level. When I tell you something can be done with those engines, you need to believe it. I'm the Engineer, I worked on enough now to know."
"We are not talking shop," Archer growled, "in our quarters."
"Where else are we going to talk about this without the rest of the crew hearing the two senior officers arguing, Commander?" Trip demanded.
"This is my first command," Jon sat on the bed heavily, as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders. "I'm being tested here, Trip and in some ways, I'm drowning. I still have three or four hours of reports to read and write with nowhere quiet enough to get the work done without being interrupted on the bridge."
"We are both being tested," Tucker reminded, moving to kneel behind his boyfriend, indicating the uniform had to go so he could massage Archer's tense shoulders, "and not just for command potential. You need to cool it Jon. Relax a little, find the right balance. Besides, it's only been a week, there were bound to be teething issues. Personally, I think we got through his one pretty well. As to the reports, they can wait until tomorrow. I'll come up with something for your ready, well, not room, but alcove."
"You managed to find a spare broom closet?" Jon groaned when Trip found a particularly tight knot.
"I was thinking of converting one of the heads," Tucker teased. "There's two behind the bridge. Surely you don't need both with three of you on each shift."
"So, I'll know every time one of my crew takes a bathroom break?" Archer mocked.
"You'll be close enough to get back to that big chair, if there's a problem. I can also get a window installed so you can see what's going on but not hear anything. I got the same problem in that nook they call my office," Trip returned before ordering. "Shower, now, you and me, then bed. Don't fight it, Old Man. You need your beauty sleep."
"I'm not the one covered in grease and grime," Jon retaliated, "or spending every minute in engineering. Standard shifts from now on, Trip. I want to see more of you than a few hours sleeping beside me when you're so tired I don't get so much as a good night kiss!"
"I told you to strip," Tucker made his mocking tone sound like a sarcastic order, "and get in the shower. What did you think I was offering, Jon, to stand and watch?"
Shaking his head, Jonathan Archer shucked his uniform in record time. "Well," he teased his open-mouthed boyfriend still in his soiled outfit, "I'm not seeing more of you, Babe."
Allowing a slow, feral smile to cover his face, Trip revealed himself piece by agonising piece. Like it or not, he'd be in charge of their activities tonight. Jon's soon learnt, Tucker could give orders and they needed to be obeyed, if he wanted to enjoy himself.
Opportunities for intimacy were few and far between during their four weeks to and from Pluto Station. Captain Ricci, understanding the issues on a small vessel with limited space allowed the crew of Al Biruni liberty. The station and accompanying mining operation couldn't be called expansive or well appointed, but it was a vast improvement over the cramped quarters of the cargo ship. Apparently, the stations captain gave the same latitude to the previous commander and her crew.
"It is a pity," Alberto Ricci announced at the end of their promised meal, "your posting is of such short duration. I believe I would like to get to know you better Commander."
"Please, call me Jon. One more trip," Archer agreed holding up his glass filled, "then back to the Complex and that new antimatter reactor. I still can't believe you knew about that when the personnel on the project kept it quiet."
"Ah," Al tapped his nose and allowed a shrewd smile to creep across his lips, "it pays to have the only source of catalyst for the antimatter reaction chamber. It was more a matter of putting together the rumours with the increase in demand and reading the vids speculating about the new warp engine."
"I see I have a lot to learn," Archer agreed, "in terms of the politics surrounding Starfleet."
"Politics," Trip shook his head sadly. "Getting Henry Archer's engine out of the Sol system shouldn't be about politics. It should be about human endeavour and tenacity, exploration and improvement."
"Agreed," Ricci concurred. "However, when Pluto is the only source of quality and abundant Rhenium in this system, and most of our efforts go to filling the cargo bays of ships headed to Vulcan, one begins to see associations that are not necessarily in the best interests of Humanity or Starfleet."
"Starfleet cargo vessels?" Archer asked, his eyebrows lifting. A nod from Alberto had Trip and Jon sharing a look and significant expression as if this discussion went a long way to explaining their current assignment. An idea forming, the Commander turned to his lead engineer and questioned, "I remember you saying the quality of the dilithum crystal would need to increase with the newer generation warp engines."
"I know where you're going with this," Trip stated before Jon could voice the real questions. "Our current supply is adequate for the engines we've got in service. We'll be able to get warp two easily but beyond that, we have to get out into the galaxy, explore and find purer deposits to mine."
"I am glad we had the opportunity for this chat. I believe," Captain Alberto Ricci took a deliberate sip from his wine glass, "you understand the reason for your short and sudden deployment. If I was a betting man, I would say this has the hand of Admiral Yamamoto all over it. Clever man. Devious and not above using anyone to achieve his goals. If you've come to his notice, Commander, Lieutenant, I'd be watching Starfleet politics very carefully. His influence is as far reaching as his displeasure if you don't fall into line with his plans."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jon stated. I wonder if that's the reason Captain Ricci has been stationed on this remote post for the last ten years. Is he gatekeeping for Yamamoto or in disgrace for some perceived wrong doing?