E2: Implications, Part 2
Summary: Trip & T'Pol get married and honeymoon in Cargo Bay 3. Archer and Reed's romantic prospects start to look up after a rescue mission. Ikkaren politics prove volatile. Reed has more bad luck, but this time he enjoys his bad luck - at least for awhile. You know things are going to go from bad to tragic. Be prepared for full tilt melodrama.
Author's Note: As everybody knows, writing original love interests for established characters is a thankless task. Any feedback would be welcome.
Vulcans had a flare for the dramatic, and so it wasn't surprising to Trip how dramatic and solemn the Vulcan wedding ceremony was. And small. Unlike the half a dozen or so weddings that had occurred on the ship since the corridor, his and T'Pol's wouldn't devolve into a hedonistic reception. There wouldn't be a reception at all. After the ceremony, in which he only flubbed one line and during which he and the captain wore some approximation of Vulcan robes - he and T'Pol were supposed to be alone together. The only guests had been Phlox, Hoshi, Travis and Malcolm.
Truth be told, that was fine with Trip. He had had enough of hangovers, and the enthusiastic partying of the younger crew members reminded him that he wasn't as young as he once was.
No, his commitment to T'Pol was serious. And the long ritual that had officially joined them was appropriate.
He glanced over at his new wife. She wore layers of shimmering green and blue robes and a scarf around her head. Her face was relaxed, peaceful - and he knew there were few emotions at the surface. She had spent three days meditating in her quarters before the ceremony, refusing to see even him, and now even with their bond he barely knew what she was thinking.
He was escorting her down to Cargo Bay 3, where they would spend the next week, ostensibly alone. The pool had been installed, and for this occasion Trip had created a beach shoreline at the edge - complete with palm tree. A relatively large cabana had also been built, with a table and chairs and couch. There was also a full sized bed - piled high with pillows - would be where they would sleep. And, not sleep.
It seemed fair. He had agreed to a Vulcan wedding. She had agreed to a human honeymoon.
It seemed bizarre to Trip that Vulcans had no concept of a wedding night and often waited years, to the onset of Pon Farr, to consummate a marriage. He thanked his lucky stars that T'Pol was adjusting nicely to human mating cycles. She even had started to enjoy them.
When they arrived at the cargo bay, Trip shut the door behind them. Only chef would be coming by with meals twice a day. Otherwise, they were on their own for a week.
He was also relieved that there were no signs of practical jokes from the crew. He had explained to several members of the engineering crew - and to the captain - that Vulcans were incapable of appreciating wedding night humor and that T'Pol would be appalled at anything that referenced their impeding "sexual relations." It seemed everyone got the message.
What was weird, though, was the Trip had come to understand that his wife had a very dry sense of humor. While she never laughed or smiled, she could tease him or the captain without raising one of her delightful Vulcan eyebrows. And since they had formed this telepathic bond, he now knew how often she was amused by jokes or movies or even the oddness she perceived in human behavior.
But she had not spoken a word since the ceremony. And the only thing as far as emotion he sensed from her was serenity - peace. Which, he supposed was a good thing.
And it was. All the traumas she had suffered in recent years had seemed to slip away once she became trapped in the corridor. The heavy weight of Vulcan tradition had been lifted, and her shortcomings no longer seemed to matter. Once she stopped gauging her emotional control by what was possible for most Vulcans and started balancing logic with her own newfound emotions, everything made sense. She was no longer ashamed of what she felt for Trip. She looked forward to feeling it.
"Have you been swimming since this was installed?" she asked. She walked toward the edge of the water.
"Not yet," he said, "You might want to take off those shoes, though."
T'Pol was wearing what appeared to be highly illogical high-heeled shoes. The flare for the dramatic had clearly won out over logic. Although, they did nicely accentuate her legs.
"Do Vulcans learn how to swim as children?"
"Yes, it is considered an important survival skill as well as good exercise," she replied.
T'Pol took off her shoes, and then began to undress. The lights in the cargo bay were low, but he could see her perfectly formed silhouette as she waded into the water.
"Is it warm?" he asked.
"It is comfortable," she said as she disappeared under the water.
Trip didn't need an invitation. He stripped himself of his own clothes and soon followed after her.
Damn, she's and excellent swimmer. He'd been swimming since before he could walk, but he couldn't see anything wrong with her stroke. It was perfect, disciplined and precise. How odd, he thought, the people who had evolved on different planets but with similar physiology would develop near identical swimming techniques. Or maybe she just took some lessons on Earth.
He approached her in the water, and she swam to meet him. He took her into his arms and kissed her deeply. The first time he had done so since they were married. He was happy that she kissed him back - something she still didn't always do.
Trip's feet found the bottom of the pool, so he could lift her into his arms and kiss deeper and longer.
She continued to kiss him, but while she did she slipped her hand into his and Trip found the bond energy come swirling back. He was afraid he might drown. No wonder Vulcans suppressed their emotions, he thought. The passion boiling up from her threatened to engulf his mind, destroy any reason or logic. He was overwhelmed at the sheer danger of it, but he also couldn't imagine pulling away.
****
"It was a beautiful ceremony," said Hoshi, who had run into Malcolm at breakfast, "Really profound. I love how seriously Vulcans take their rituals. And Trip did amazing. He seemed so happy to be there. . .it was really romantic," she continued, "And you must have noticed how amazing T'Pol looked. I've always envied her clothes - and just when you think she couldn't have anything else in that tiny closet of hers - she pulls out that number. I don't know what makes Vulcan silkworms so talented, but I wish I had done some more shopping the last time I was on Vulcan."
"I think that was Tholian silk," said Malcolm, "It's very rare."
Malcolm sighed and remembered just how stunning T'Pol had looked. He was happy for his friends, and more than a little bit envious. To his irritation, he also spied what appeared to be a hickey on Hoshi's neck. Clearly, the bride and groom were not the only ones who got laid the night before. Hoshi also had that unmistakable - glow about her.
"I hope when I get married, my honeymoon will be some place more interesting," said Malcolm.
"For your sake, Malcolm," said Hoshi, "I hope that when you get married you'll be so happy that you won't care where you're honeymoon is," said Hoshi.
"Touche," said Malcolm.
Malcolm thought of teasing Hoshi about her relationship with Hayes, but he was afraid it would come out bitter rather than light-hearted. That's probably because he was bitter. With the men outnumbering the women two to one, it seemed that all of the women were taken. Malcolm's only option seemed to be to wait around until someone broke up with someone. Rebound relationships were at least something.
"Anything interesting come through the comm, lately," asked Malcolm, "I can't believe we won't be at another habitable planet for at least two weeks."
"Well, at least it gives our honeymooners a chance to be alone for a week," said Hoshi.
Suddenly, the captain's voice came over the comm, summoning Hoshi and Malcolm to the bridge.
"We're not on vacation," sighed Malcolm.
"But at least something - anything has happened," said Hoshi.
When they arrived on the bridge, the captain was in his chair. An Ikkaren freighter appeared on the viewscreen. It appeared to have some damage.
"There are life signs," said the Captain, "But the ship appears to be disabled. There's been no distress call."
"It could be a trap," said Malcolm, remembering their early experiences in the Expanse and elsewhere.
"It could be," said Jon, "But I don't want to abandon anyone that needs are help out of an over abundance of caution. You and I will take a shuttlepod and see if we can do anything. Hoshi, try hailing them again."
Nothing.
"Hoshi, you have the bridge, Malcolm your with me."
Malcolm felt excitement bubble up in him. It had been months since anything this interesting had happened. He could finally stop feeling sorry for himself and start getting back to what he was good at - away missions on strange and possibly dangerous ships.
****
Within two hours, Jon and Malcolm had boarded the Ikkaren transport. It didn't long for them both to realize why the ship's passengers and crew were incapacitated. The oxygen level in the atmosphere was remarkably high, too high for a human or an Ikkaren to remain conscious but not enough to kill anyone.
"All in all," said Malcolm, "There are worse things to happen to your life support systems."
The Captain nodded in his EV helmet.
"We need to find the controls and see if we can repair them. We should have brought an engineer," said the Captain, who admitted to himself that he didn't want to bring anyone else but Trip on an adventure like this one. Malcolm remained a great second choice.
"I think they will be this way,' said Malcolm as they strolled down the hallway. The corridor appeared empty, until they reached the end. An Ikkaren woman lay on the ground in front of a control panel. Her arm was reaching up toward the controls.
"I'm guessing this is the life support system," said Jon, who suddenly was wishing Hoshi was there as well.
But it didn't matter much. Jon had been learning a bit of Ikkaren here and there over the preceding months, enough to recognize the character for "RESET" on the panel. He hoped it would be that easy.
He pressed the button and heard a hissing noise.
Malcolm examined his readings.
"The atmosphere is returning to normal," he said.
With that, he reached down and repositioned the young Ikkaren woman's body so that she wouldn't be so awkward when she awakened. As he did so, he couldn't help noticing how - pretty the woman was. She was humanoid, with skin tones very similar to Earth natives. But, she had a delicate ridge starting at her forehead and down to the tip of her nose. She had light, not blond, but almost white hair and long, white eyelashes. She wore a green dress, similar in style to the ones Malcolm had seen other Ikkaren women wear. This appeared to be a civilian ship.
Meanwhile, Jon took off his helmet and took a deep breath.
"The air is fine now," he said.
The young woman's eyes began to open. Malcolm took his helmet off and knelt down next to her.
Her eyes opened. Her irises were a pale yellow. Almost the color of sunshine, thought Malcolm.
The woman sat up started. And screamed a high pitched, short scream.
"Don't be afraid," said Malcolm hoping the UT had kicked in, "We came to help, nothing more. You're life support systems had got out of whack."
The woman looked up at Jon and then back at Malcolm, then up to the control panel.
"I know," she said, "I was trying to reach the control when I blacked out. My goodness, I'm glad you came along. How long have we been asleep?"
Jon reached down a hand and pulled the woman to her feet.
"I'm Captain Archer of the Starship Enterprise," he said, smiling.
"I'm Lesilia, and my sister is the captain of this transport," she said, "No doubt she's found herself awake on the bridge. Do you know how long we've been asleep?"
"No," said Jon, "But from the looks of it, not very long. There's little to no debris accumulation in the atmosphere. You probably weren't out for longer than a day," he said.
The woman looked at the Captain, then back at Malcolm.
"Where exactly are you two from?" she said.
"Earth," said Malcolm, "It's a long way from here."
In more ways than one, thought Malcolm, remembering that he would never go home.
"Our species is called human," he said.
"You must be a long way from home," said Lesilia, "Because I've spent a long time traveling around this part of space, and you two gentleman are the first humans I've ever heard of - let alone met."
"It's a long story," said the captain.
Malcolm couldn't help but notice a lilt in the captain's speech, on that only surfaced when he was in close proximity of an attractive woman.
"Well," said Lesilia, "I'm sure my sister will want to thank you both in person. The bridge is just this way."
They walked down the corridor and though a pair of ornate doors only a small bridge. To Malcolm's surprise a woman who looked nearly identical to Lesilia stood there. Nearly, but not entirely identical. Her hair was a kind translucent blue/black and her eyes were green. But otherwise, she looked identical to her sister. She even wore the exact same dress but in yellow rather than green.
"What the hell happened?" asked Essilia, the captain. "I assume you didn't reach the reset button in time."
Lesilia folded her arms.
"Well, I'm sorry I wasn't able to withstand the change in atmosphere as long as you needed me to in order to fix your ship," said the yellow-eyed sister, "But luckily these gentleman came to our rescue."
Essilia began to examine a few of her consoles.
"Everyone's life signs are returning to normal," she said. Her voice indicated great relief.
"Thank you, whoever you are," she said.
"Not at all," said the Captain, "Pleasure to be of service, ma'am."
****
Trip awoke in the sumptuous comfort of the honeymoon suite in cargo bay three. He blinked his eyes open but knew better than to try and sit up. He felt a strange mix of hallucinatory intoxication and clarity, and he wondered if the previous night had been a dream. He turned his head and saw his wife looking at him.
Her eyes met his, and she smiled. The most beautiful smile. . .
Trip sat up, in shock. This was T'Pol, but it wasn't. He knew it was her. The bond was there, he could feel it.
She lifted her hand up and brushed his face.
"Shhhh. . .," she said sleepily, "I'm fine. It's just my serotonin levels won't return to normal for another 24 hours."
Trip lay back down.
"So," he said, "I only get to see you smile like that once every seven years."
"Yes," she said.
"Completely worth the wait," he said.
Then, she laughed. It was a sweet, school girlish laugh. Through their bond, he knew she hadn't done that she was a child.
Truth be told, as Trip replayed their wedding night in his head, he was glad that her mating cycle would only come around once every seven years. He didn't think his heart could take that level of intensity for a sustained period of time. No wonder Vulcans could only mate every seven years. If they did it more often, it would kill them.
No, he would be content to return to their more light-hearted, more human sex life.
But we still have another day.
Trip grinned and his wife and pulled her back into his arms.
****
By lunch, Malcolm, Jon, Essilia and Lesilia were dining in the captain's mess aboard Enterprise. Initially, Essilia had turned Jon's invitation down, but her sister had convinced her that, after weeks aboard their small transport, they could use a change of scenery.
Essilia told them that while she was the transport's captain, her sister was primarily a passenger. She gripped her wine glass delicately by the stem, using her long fingers. Jon had noticed that Ikkaren women seemed vain about their hands, and always kept their nails perfect.
"I teach art history at a university on Ikkaria," said Lesilia, "But I'm on winter break. Four months to explore all the goings on in the scattered artists colonies."
"She's being modest," said Essilia, "She teaches at the finest of all the Universities on our home world. Less than one percent of the population even qualifies to apply to study there."
Malcolm was impressed. This was an accomplished young woman sitting next to him. Beautiful and smart, she was.
"She's definitely the brainy one," said Essilia, "Whereas I went to flight school and wound up the transport fleet. I'm the one with the sense of adventure."
Malcolm thought he saw a look pass between the sisters, and he made a mental note. Something passed beneath the surface. It was probably nothing, as sibling relationships were often complex.
"I hope you don't mind me remarking," said Malcolm, "But the two of you look remarkably alike."
The sisters smiled at each other.
"Of course," said Essilia, "We're identical twins."
Jon sipped a bit of Ikkaren wine.
"But you're coloring, it's different. Human identical twins are well, more identical."
Lesilia looked puzzled.
"So human pigmentation develops in the womb? Ikkarens are born without any pigmentation. Over the first months of life, it develops based on a number of environmental factors. We were raised together, but I think my sister's crib was nearer to the window. Which explains a whole lot, not just her hair and eyes."
"Human hair color can change over the course of a lifetime," said Malcolm, "And eye color can change shortly after birth, but most everything is determined by genes."
Malcolm offered the sisters more wine and poured himself a glass. He hoped the captain wouldn't mind. Suddenly, it felt very much like they were on a double date rather than on duty.
Malcolm looked at the two sisters. Both were beautiful, but he knew the captain had a thing for brunettes. And he would happily take the blond. White-blond. What amazing eyes, he thought. What amazingly delicate fingers.
Essilia took a gulp of her wine and leaned over the table. Jon detected a small hint of mean-spiritedness when she spoke.
"So, Lesilia, Thoren is going to be wondering where you are," she said, "Did my sister tell you that she was recently married?"
Malcolm felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. It wasn't disappointment, it was the torture of going from giddy to despair in less than a second.
"Well," said Jon, "Congratulations. We've had a spate of weddings here aboard the Enterprise. We had one last night. On human vessels its customary for the captain to perform the ceremony. So I've been busy," he said.
Lesilia laughed out loud at that.
"You could add that to your many duties, sis" she said, "On Ikkaren ships, it's the chef that performs the weddings. . . food is a central part of our culture, and there's a three course meal that's integrated into the ceremony," said Lesilia, "I'm still full from my wedding and it was six weeks ago."
Malcolm sighed deeply. All of the good ones were taken.
"You should have brought your husband," said Jon.
"He's busy writing a speech," said Lesilia, "He'll be delivering it to graduates of the military academy when we reach Ikkaria. He's giving the commencement address."
Reed felt kicked again. Of course she'd be married to a celebrity of some kind. A military hero. Reed felt inadequacy drip from his pores.
"Thoren led the last campaign against the Grey Guard rebels on Ikkaria. They are totalitarians who believe that Ikkarian expansion into so many colonies endangers the purity of our culture. They also believe we should build a larger military. We do have a small guard, but for centuries, Ikkarians security has come from favorable and neutral trade relations with all our neighbors, rather than large military might. In fact, no ship in our fleet is as large and powerful as yours captain. It's not that we don't have the capacity or technology to build them, we just prefer swift, sleek transports and freighters."
Lesilia shook her head.
"I've spent my life studying how our artists are striking out across the colonies and developing their own movements and styles. They are taking Ikkarian culture to new and different places, being influenced by all different species. That idea that it threatens classical Ikkaren culture is patently absurd."
Essilia gently put her wine glass down.
"During the last insurgency, my sister was taken hostage. She was forced to make a statement denouncing her life's work before she was released. Thoren, who was a childhood friend of ours, negotiated her release. He believes, and I believe, that their original intent was to kill her."
Jon took a large drink of water. He had met plenty of religious fanatics during his exploration, but this was the first time he had ever encountered cultural fanatics. Even at its most civilized, the Expanse was a dangerous place.
"Well," said Malcolm, "I'm glad to see you are all right. And that no permanent harm has come you."
Essilia laughed.
"Well," said Essilia, "We can laugh about it now, but it was terrifying. It did benefit Thoren in one way, though. How many times had you turned down his proposal? Three? Maybe four? Five if you count when we were on the playground. It took him saving your life to realize your feelings."
Lesilia shrugged.
How romantic, thought Malcolm. Childhood sweethearts united by a dramatic rescue. It was enough to make his stomach turn.
Jon turned to Essilia. "What about you? Are you married?"
It's pretty obvious she isn't, captain, thought Malcolm. It would figure that the brunette would be the single one.
"Free as a bird," said Essilia, "Not many Ikkaren men are willing to play first mate to a transport captain. For all the strides we've made, our men still like to be in the captain's chair. In fact, most every Ikkaren male I know would be jealous of the size of your ship."
Malcolm really thought he was going to vomit in his mouth. At that moment, Lesilia caught his eyes with hers. Somehow, Malcolm knew she was thinking the same thing.
"So," said Jon, "How about that ship's tour?"
He got up and extended an arm to the dark-haired Ikkaren. She graciously accepted.
"If you don't mind, Captain," said Lesilia, "I was wondering if you would allow Malcolm to return me to our ship. I'm sure everyone aboard is still a little shook up over our recent ordeal - and I've also got some work I need to finish."
"Not if Malcolm doesn't mind," said Jon as he let Essilia out of his mess.
Once they were out of earshot, Lesilia turned to Malcolm.
"My sister has always been a little bit, transparent," she said, "But I dare say I haven't seen her that interested in a man in years. She's usually too busy. . ."
"Shall I escort you to the shuttlepod?"
Lesilia lifted her arm up.
"Thank you, Malcolm," she said, "And may I again thank you and your captain and crew for stopping and helping us. Not many species around this part of space would do that. It speaks well of all of humanity."
Malcolm took her arm and together they walked toward the launch bay.
****
Travis and Hoshi were the only two senior staff members on the bridge when they noticed a ship appear, almost out of nowhere. It was bigger than the Ikkaren transport but much smaller than Enterprise.
Hoshi hailed them, but got no response. She tried again, no response.
The vessel simply hovered over the Ikkaren transport, then it jumped to warp.
"Oh my god," said Hoshi, "It seems like half the people on board that transport were beamed over to that ship."
Hoshi contacted the captain and told him what she saw.
Jon looked at Essilia.
"Were you expecting that?"
"No," she said, "But the strange way our life support systems broke just started to make sense. I'll bet my third finger we didn't meet with an accident yesterday, it was sabotage. And I'm guessing again - educatedly so - that the Grey Guard was behind this. We've been hearing rumors for months that they were planning something big."
Jon hailed Malcolm and told him to wait with the pod. He and Essilia were heading back to the ship.
Soon enough, when the four of them arrived on Essilia's ship, they were met by a young steward. He seemed frantic.
"Thoren and all his men were transported out of here," he said, "Just like that."
All the color drained from Lesilia face. She didn't quite faint, but Malcolm had to grab her to prevent her from keeling over.
"I'll wager this isn't an isolated event," said Essilia, "Thoren had information that indicated the Greys were planning a coup. If so, it would make sense that they would neutralize any potential counter insurgents. Thoren . . and to a lesser extent myself would make great targets. I'm sorry Lesilia. I'm assuming he didn't tell you about the intelligence we got two months ago. . ."
Lesilia stood up straight. She shot her sister a venomous look.
"He told me. But he also told me that it was nothing to worry about. I didn't believe him, of course."
Essilia strode over to a console and started tapping at it. Works in the Ikkaren language appeared on the screen.
"There's been a coup. Worse still, it's successful. The Grey Guard has control of the capital and all the space ports and the orbital beacons. Marshall Law has been declared."
Lesilia made her way to a stool and sat down. She closed her eyes. Malcolm suddenly wished he could have been in a position to help her husband. Hell, at the moment, he would have traded places with her husband if he could have.
"Don't worry," said Essilia, "They are probably not dead. They're no good as bargaining chips if they're dead. The Greys will probably just throw them in prison. Jonathan. . .may I recommend that you delay your visit to Ikkaria. Now may not be the best time. It looks like your research trip has been extended, sis."
Jon looked around at the small transport. He guessed their supplied were limited.
"How many people do you have on board?" asked Jon.
Jon suspected that the sisters, and their crew, may be in danger. He also figured that, like his own crew, they had suddenly become refugees.
"Besides my sister and I?" said Essilia, "Four."
"I think this little ship could fit in our launch bay," said Jon. "Why don't you all hide out on Enterprise until you can figure out what to do? If your history is anything like Earth's, there's a good chance this coup will be followed by another one."
Before he realized what had happened, Malcolm was helping Essilia park her ship in their launch bay. Soon after that, he helped find quarters for the sisters and their friends. Malcolm thought that, while the sisters situation was difficult, it was somewhat fortuitous for Enterprise. Their knowledge was going to come in handy.
****
Several days later, Leslia sat on one of Phlox's biobed and held out her hands.
"Your species truly has the most amazing phalanges I've ever seen in sentient humanoids. So very delicate. Do you break them often?"
"Not if I can help it," said Lesilia, as she waved her fingers for the doctor, "And might I say your phalanges are quite remarkable in their own right."
Malcolm walked into sickbay.
"What can I do for you, lieutenant? Are you ill?"
"No," said Malcolm, "But I heard one of our passengers was here and I wanted to check on her."
Lesilia jumped off the bio bed and onto the floor. Her feet made the tiniest of clicking noises when she hit the floor.
"I'm fine," she said "But Phlox had never examined an Ikkaren close up before. Since I suddenly have all the time in the world, I thought I'd make myself useful to him."
"Very generous of you," replied Malcolm.
"My sister knows every corner of this section of space like it was the back of her fingers," she said, "But unless you all want lessons in Ikkaren contemporary art, I'm afraid I'm going to be dead weight around here."
"Nonsense," said Phlox, "I'm sure you'll be very useful. Just your company will be a pleasure. In fact, I would like to invite you to dine with my companion Amanda and myself. I'm sure she would love to meet you. We're expecting our first child."
Malcolm started to do some math in his head. Amanda. Jay McKenzie. Crewman Decker. Within a few months, there would be three children aboard the ship.
"Well," said Lesilia, "I must say I'm impressed. If I had been in your circumstances. . .well, I guess we all have that in common now. We're all refugees."
Before he knew what he was doing, Malcolm reached out his hand and placed it on top of hers.
"The Captain says these Grey Guards want nothing to do with the outer colonies. You could easily find a new home at any one of them. . ."
Malcolm didn't want to bring up her missing husband. The one he was suddenly becoming sort of kind of glad was missing. He couldn't help himself.
"So, would you care to join me in the mess for lunch?' said Malcolm. He told himself there was nothing sinister or inappropriate about lunch. He had lunch with Hoshi all the time. He'd had lunch with T'Pol three days before her wedding to his best friend. Nothing at all was inappropriate about lunch.
"I'd be happy to, and yes Phlox, I'd be honored to dine with you and your companion anytime."
Malcolm nodded formally, "Doctor."
"So, are your friends going to be emerging from their wedding isolation soon? I hear it will be just a few days from now."
Malcolm nodded.
"Some honeymoon, eh, in a converted cargo bay," he said.
Lesilia smiled.
"Oh, I don't know. I think it's romantic. After all, it's not where you go, it's who you are with. My husband agreed to come with me to an out colony so I could research visionary painters. It was a lovely gesture."
At that moment, Malcolm felt truly sorry for her loss.
"Again," he said, "I'm so sorry about your husband."
Tears welled up in her eyes. So, Malcolm thought, Ikkarens cry much like humans do.
"Me too," she said, "He doesn't deserve whatever is happening to him. If he is still alive. . "
Malcolm too her hand in his.
"You must love him very much."
He expected an immediate response. A nod. Some kind of affirmation. But she was still.
"Everyone loves Thoren," she said, "He was a hero. He is a hero."
Something didn't quite sit well with Malcolm. But he brushed it off as a glitch in the universal translator.
******
Jay and Travis ate breakfast in the mess hall with Hoshi. To Jay's relief, Hoshi didn't bring her rumored significant other, Major Hayes. Jay liked him well enough, but she wasn't in the mood to eat with her commanding officer. It was still hard to keep food down, and she didn't need any more tension. Still, she couldn't resist sticking her nose in just little bit.
"So, how are things with you and the Major," she asked.
Hoshi was used to this question by now. Butting in was now the ship's primary entertainment.
"Going well," she said, "Of course, we're hardly moving as fast as you two. Or should I say you three? Have you felt any kicks yet?"
"Some fluttering," said Jay, "But I think she'll be a big kid. Her dad and I are both tall."
Hoshi noticed that the once caffeine-addicted Jay drank only tea.
"I've heard the Captain is spending lots of time with the transport captain. She's the one with the dark hair," said Travis.
"They've been sticking together like glue," said Hoshi, "I think its kind of sweet. They have the same basic job - and she's really nice. I haven't talked to her as much as her sister. Probably because she is always with the Captain."
Travis leaned forward and grinned.
"Crewman Richards is responsible for cleaning my quarters. He said that the dark-haired Ikkaren hasn't been in her own quarters very much. She didn't sleep there last night."
"Now, now," said Hoshi, who couldn't help thinking it was unfair that women got flack for being gossipy. The men on this ship were just as good at it.
"But the other one, the light-haired one," said Jay, "She's been hanging around with Malcolm. I saw them in the turbo lift together. They looked friendly."
"Except that she's the married one," said Hoshi, "Recently married . ."
Travis shook his head.
"Ouch. Double ouch. She's awfully pretty. . . not as pretty as you," said Travis as he winked at his wife, "But Malcolm does strike me as the kind of guy who would go for the unattainable."
"Well," said Hoshi, "She'd better not break Malcolm's heart or she'll have to answer to me. . ."
****
Jon woke up in his quarters and turned over to find Porthos was staring at him. Great, he thought. Last night must have been a dream or a hallucination. Then, he heard the shower was on. He sat up and admired Essilia's silhouette in his shower. Ikkarens were awfully - willow-y.
She noticed he was a awake and turned off the water.
"Marvelous invention. A shower of water!" she exclaimed, "We only take baths. I can't believe no one ever thought of this. Some of the spas on Ikkaria have something like this - with jets of water coming up from the floor - but it's considered a luxury."
She emerged from the shower, totally naked. Ikkarens weren't shy, thought Jon. Or maybe it was just that this Ikkaren wasn't shy.
"Good morning," he said.
She dried herself off with a towel and came forward and kissed Jon on the lips. It wasn't too light or too hard, thought Jon. No, it was just right. She also patted Porthos on the head.
"I'm thinking of taking your advice and taking Enterprise to one of the Northern colonies," said Jon, "And we'd be happy to ferry any more stray refugees we find along the way."
Essilia sat on the edge of the bed.
"Don't offer to do it for free," said Essilia, "As generous as your species is, that won't endear you to anyone. And it will look to the Greys like are taking sides. But if you accept payment - well, then, no Ikkaren will quibble with that. Not even the Greys. Besides, I'll wager you'll need all the supplies you can get."
Jon smiled at her. It was going to be useful to have a local guide, at least for awhile. He didn't venture to hope that Essilia would stay on Enterprise permanently, but he bet that she would stay until the political situation on her home world sorted itself. For her sake, he hoped the situation would end soon - for his sake, he hoped it would be prolonged.
"Care to join me for breakfast?" asked Jon, "One of the perks of the captaincy, breakfast in private."
"Of course," said Essilia, "I'm amazing at the amount of options you humans have for breakfast. Food is important to Ikkarens, but we would never dream of eating anything sweet before the afternoon."
The two both got up, got dressed and headed off to the captain's mess.
***
On the last day of her honeymoon, T'Pol opened her eyes. Since the pon farr had subsided, she had meditated every night and felt her emotional control return to the levels it had been in the weeks before the wedding. It was a blessed relief to feel normalcy returning.
"Last day," said Trip, who had noticed she was awake.
"I'll be happy to return to my regular duties," said T'Pol, "As I suppose you will. The engines will benefit from your return, I am sure."
Trip got up and poured himself some coffee. While he was at it, he made tea for her.
"I suppose if anything really interesting had happened, we would have heard about it. I'm guessing it was nothing but smooth sailing while we were gone."
T'Pol stretched and pulled the covers around her body.
"I believe I'll go for one more swim before we return. I am glad the captain had this pool installed."
Trip thought of asking her how she was feeling, just to make conversation. But he didn't need to ask he already knew she was fine. Even happy in her Vulcan way.
"I think he's been dreaming of that pool since we first left space dock. . .what was it, almost three years ago?"
Trip shook his head. Even though it hadn't technically happened yet, it seemed like a lifetime ago. He thought of how little he had cared for Vulcans back then. And how he had thought that having Malcolm and a compliment of weapons aboard was just a precaution. How naive he had been. He certainly wouldn't, couldn't have thought that he would wind up married to the stuck up Vulcan who had irritated him so completely on their first mission.
He watched T'Pol tip toe to the water and wade into the pool. She was breathtaking, and he felt very lucky.
Meanwhile, T'Pol thought of the doctor's belief that she would be most likely to conceive a child during her pon farr. Thus far, she hadn't felt any changes in her body, but it was quite early. She would know soon enough.
The child would only be half Vulcan, she thought. And only half human. Would he or she be able to forge an identity aboard the ship? Would the other children accept a not fully human playmate? Would the child need to embrace logic, or would his or her human side temper his emotions?
T'Pol thought that had they not been thrown back in time, she never would have embarked on such a dangerous endeavor. But it was illogical to think that way, as she had already moved forward. And Trip would be a good father. He understood her better than any human ever had - and no doubt he would understand the child as well.
Trip thought of joining T'Pol in the pool, but he didn't. He was enjoying watching her swim and feeling the cadences of her thoughts trickle through his head. This telepathy stuff was going to make life interesting, he thought. And he would never forget her birthday or their anniversary.
****
Malcolm knocked on the door of Leslia's quarters. He was going to take her to lunch in the mess hall. They had dined together a few times already, but the hadn't done so the previous day. And had only had breakfast the day before that. No, it was all feeling very friendly - and nothing more than that.
Suddenly, the deck plating bubbled up beneath Malcolm's feet. He was thrown back into the far wall. Lesilia opened the door and reached out to pull Malcolm into her quarters, away from the metal bubbling that was so dangerous.
The Captain's voice came over the loud speaker.
"It looks like we've hit a big wave of anomalies. Everyone should stay put where they are unless they are deemed essential. Sit down and sit tight. We should be through this in a few hours."
Malcolm sat on the floor of Lesilia's quarters, and she sat on the edge of her bed. Malcolm noticed she had even hung a small Ikkaren painting on the wall. That was quick. But then again, she was an art historian. She must have carried things like that with her.
"Looks like your stuck here. ..for awhile," said Lesila.
"Looks that way," said Malcolm.
"Are you comfortable on the chair, or would you rather get up?"
She gestured to a chair that was in the corner. It was a tight fit. She hadn't exactly been given premium quarters. Malcolm slowly pulled himself up and into the chair. Outside, he heard the sounds of metal clanging. Hopefully, everyone had secured themselves.
Lesilia lay down on her bed, facing Malcolm.
"So, do you know any card games?" said Malcom.
She stared blankly.
"You don't have card games in your culture?" said Malcolm,
"No," she said, "We have games, though."
Then, there was silence. Just an eerie, awkward silence with the banging and echoing of the anomaly in the background. Malcolm wanted to say something, but he couldn't think of something to say that wasn't awkward or too inquisitive. Lesilia also wanted to say something, but she didn't want to offer too much of herself to this stranger - a man of a race she knew nothing about - even though her instincts told her to trust him.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she spoke.
"So, your accent is slightly different from the rest of the crew. I assume your from a different region than the rest. . ."
"I'm British," said Malcolm, "I'm from a small island near one of the larger continents. And I'll have you know that the language that we all speak - Earth's dominant language -originated on that island."
With that, Malcolm told Lesila all about the history of England and Briton. How that small island that had been invaded over and over again and then eventually conquered a quarter of the planet. He didn't shy away from the gory details or how he was both proud of his countries many accomplishments and ashamed of its atrocities.
"No matter what the planet," said Lesilia, "The perils and pleasures of empire remain the same."
She told him about Ikkaria and its own violent history. How a movement toward fair trade and high end production had until recently produced a stable, unified society - until the borders of their world had stretched so far that some Ikkarens thought their culture was going to be dangerously diluted.
Before Malcolm realized it, three hours and had passed and the all clear came over the loudspeaker.
"Well," said Lesilia, "I wager you've had quite enough of my company."
"Not remotely," said Malcolm, but he nevertheless headed for the door.
****
Trip stared across the table in the captain's mess. The dark-haired alien woman with the strange fingers seemed awfully at home with the captain. He'd only been gone a week, and it appeared Archer had gone and found himself a girlfriend. He glanced over at T'Pol to see what she thought, but of course her face was nothing but a blank. He even tried to read her mind, but it appeared that T'Pol was neither surprised at the captain's actions or interested in his love life. She seemed to just think this was - expected.
"So, Jon tells me that your people embrace logic above all else," said Essilia, "There's a similar cultural movement on Ikkaria, though it has never become dominant. My sister knows more about them - they produced a geometrically abstract art movement sometime in the last century.'
Jon smiled. It was nice not to feel like a third wheel for once.
"Essilia's sister is also aboard. She's a professor of art. Or she was, before the coup."
"There are universities in the outer colonies," said Essilia, "So I'm sure she'll find a position if it turns out the new regime is permanent."
"Her sister looks just like her but with different coloring. They are identical twins, but Ikkaren's develop pigmentation after they are born based on environmental factors."
"I've heard of species with that trait," said T'Pol, "Thank you again, captain, for having the swimming pool built in the cargo bay. I believe it will be an excellent source of recreation for the crew."
Jon smiled. No doubt she and Trip put it to good use over the last week. Both of them seemed very relaxed and happy.
"If you ever do visit Ikkaria, there are magnificent hot springs on the northernmost continent. Fire and ice, they call it."
Trip was studying the Ikkaren woman, trying to figure out if the captain was right in trusting her. She seemed all right, but he wasn't sure he wanted Enterprise embroiled in another species internal political struggles - no matter if the captain's new girlfriend was one of them.
After they had said goodnight, Trip and T'Pol headed back to their new quarters. They were actually her old quarters with a door cut through to the next space over. It still wasn't big, but two people would be fine for awhile. Three, well thought Trip, we'll deal with that when the time comes.
"So, what to you think of her?"
"She seems pleasant enough," said T'Pol, "and the captain seems to like her."
Trip waited for more elaboration. But then he remembered that Vulcans don't gossip. He sensed that T'Pol simply trusted the captain's judgement, and if that judgement proved wrong, well they would have to deal with it. It was a good attitude, and he decided to try and share it with her.
She sat down on the edge of their new sofa, which was really an adapted bed from the new space and lit a candle. He sat next to her and gently put her hand in his.
You can hear me right?
Of course.
Still getting used to it.
We've plenty of time.
******
The next morning Trip headed off to breakfast, alone. T'Pol had some work to do, so he decided to let her eat in their quarters while she went over some data scans. As fun as the honeymoon had been, he was glad to be getting back to engineering and glad to see everyone again.
He grabbed a tray of food and spied Malcolm in the corner. He was sitting at a table with a woman that looked exactly like the captain's girlfriend, except her coloring was different. It must be the sister, he thought, and it looked like Malcolm is doing well with her. Did everyone get a girlfriend while I was gone?
Malcolm beckoned him to his table.
"Trip Tucker....this is Lesilia, one of our Ikkaren guests," said Malcolm.
"I think I met your sister last night," said Trip, "At dinner with the captain."
Trip sat down. He shook the young woman's hand, though it was hard to grip with those long fingers of hers.
"I think my sister has dined with your captain every night since we have been aboard," said Leslia.
"They seem to be getting along," said Trip. He caught the young alien woman's eye. He recognized immediately that she recognized what "getting along" was a euphemism for. Trip was left wondering how well she and Malcolm were getting along.
"You're the art historian," said Trip, "Your sister told my wife and me that's what you do."
"I suppose I am still an art historian," said Leslia, "Though I guess I am no longer a professor. I received a message that my position has been dissolved by the new government. But that was to be expected. I guess I'm lucky I wasn't on Ikkaria when the coup happened. I'd probably be in prison by now."
Leslia sighed.
"Well, no matter," she said, "It's best just to look forward. Who knows what the future will bring? It was nice to meet you, Trip, but I must be going. I promised my sister I'd help her inventory some of the contents of her vessel this morning. I'll see you later Malcolm."
With that, Leslia slipped away. Malcolm gazed after her, thinking about how graceful Ikkaren women were. His mouth hung open a little bit.
"Well," said Trip, "I'm gone for a week and you and the captain manage to pick up a pair of twins."
Malcolm inhaled deeply then downed some of his coffee.
"That one is married," he said, "Sad to say."
Trip inhaled. Damn, Malcolm had rotten luck with women.
"How was the honeymoon?" asked Malcolm.
"Great," said Trip, trying not to allow his voice to ooze pity.
******
Months went by. Jay gave birth to the Enterprise's first child, a girl. They called her Aurora. Weeks after that Phlox and Amanda welcomed their first child, a boy. The sound of crying babies became a regular soundtrack for the crew. Most of the Ikkarens had adjusted well to life on Enterprise and gradually made themselves useful. Essilia, especially, made a wonderful guide to various colonies, space stations and planets. Thanks to her, Jon had been able to avoid getting the ship involved in the war but still aid a few refugees here and there.
T'Pol had found herself pregnant, as the doctor suspected, but she and Trip had not yet told anyone. Due to the long Vulcan gestation period, she wasn't showing, and she wanted to be sure the hybrid pregnancy was viable before saying anything.
She had, however, been overtaken by morning sickness despite the fact that Vulcan women did not get morning sickness. It was a human.
"I guess the kid gave it you," said Trip as he tended to his wife, "It must come from my side of the family."
She even visited the doctor later that day. He refused to give her anything.
"You know we wish to keep your medication intake at an absolute minimum. I suggest a little neural pressure. It doesn't just work for insomnia, he said.
T'Pol got down from the bio bed, thankful at least that her symptoms subsided once she was up and around.
"Do you want to know if it is a boy or a girl? Some people don't want to spoil the surprise."
T'Pol raised an eyebrow.
"It will be a surprise now as much as it would be nine months from now." Phlox had guessed that she would give birth after a year of gestation.
"It's a boy," said Phlox, "And every day I'm more confident you'll carry to term. Just think, the first Vulcan/Human hybrid."
T'Pol rested her hand on her stomach. She felt relief wash over her. Vulcans might not be emotional, but they form highly strong bonds with their children. She did not want to lose her son.
"Thank you, doctor," said T'Pol, who headed off to her shift on the bridge.
***
Malcolm rushed into his quarters, and Lesilia followed. He rummaged around his bookshelf.
"Here it is," he said, "William Blake. He was both a poet and artist, and he integrated the two mediums like no other English poet."
Lesilia took the book.
"Thank you," she said, "It's an amazing world where I can learn the classics of a species from hundreds of light years away...."
Malcolm cleared his throat.
"Well," he said, "I'm glad to be able to lend it to you. . ."
Lesilia shut the door behind her, and she locked it. Malcolm said nothing as she moved toward him and kissed him. He kissed back, pushing aside what a terrible idea this was. It was insane, he thought. No doubt she was just using him. No doubt she was just drowning her grief. . .he couldn't think anymore after that.
After the blur of their coupling, he lay naked next to her and stared at the ceiling. She also stared.
"I'm sorry," he said.
She turned.
"What for?"
"You're husband may still be alive..."
She laughed.
"Oh....that. Thoren," she laughed some more.
"He might be alive. And he might be dead. Either way, he was or is a professional soldier. If he is alive, he's probably enjoying plotting an escape or leading a rebellion. But I don't want to talk about him. Put him out of your mind...."
Malcolm reached an arm around her. He knew he was being used, but he didn't care.
"It must be hard, losing someone you love that way."
Lesilia laughed again.
"Oh, I didn't love him."
Malcolm searched her face.
"Hell," she said, "I liked him well enough. And I was always flattered that he chased me. But I never loved him. Not when we were kids. Not when we were adults. I told him over and over. But he was a military man, and he was used to getting what he wanted. After he arranged my release from the Grey Guard last year, he made a statement to the press about how much he loved me. People went mad for the story. The reporters made up this whole, incorrect narrative about us being in love. Suddenly, the whole world wanted the happy ending to that narrative...and I was just too tired not to give it to them."
Malcolm let this bit of information sink into his psyche.
"You must think I'm the queen bitch of the ages," said Lesilia.
"No," said Malcolm.
Lesilia inhaled deeply.
"Good," she said, "Because I'd hate for you to hate me."
******
Time kept passing. Months went on, and everyone settled into their routine. T'Pol put away her Vulcan catsuits in favor of loser robes, but she was grateful the morning sickness had subsided. Hoshi and Hayes got married, but she insisted that they wait a few years to have children. Essilia moved in with the captain, and nobody said anything. And if anyone wondered about Malcolm and the married twin, they didn't say anything to his face.
Malcolm had decided things would go one day at a time. He hated himself, but he hoped that word of her husband's death would solve their problems. Or perhaps she could just divorce him from afar - those kinds of things were done all the time.
He would lie awake next to her and think about it, even though her husband was nowhere nearby by. Even though she didn't love her husband, she loved Malcolm. Why did the legal formalities even matter to Malcolm. Lesilia was more his than she had ever been her husband's. But deep down, Malcolm was an old-fashioned man. So yes, it bothered him. He thought of all his friends, who had paired off and were starting families. It just didn't seem fair.
Though, when he looked down into Lesilia's yellow eyes, none of that mattered. None of it mattered at all.
*****
The lights are were low in sickbay as T'Pol lay on a bio bed. She had surrounded herself with candles, her eyes closed in deep meditation.
"Where's Commander Tucker?" said Phlox, not caring if he interrupted her.
"In engineering," she said, "But he will return in plenty of time for the birth. It is hours away."
Phlox shook his head. He had delivered hundreds, if not thousands, of humanoid babies. Pain was a part of the process. Most species took medication to kill the pain. Some cultures required the women to suffer through without medication. But Vulcans were the only species he knew that required women to remain silent through the process. Their Vulcan minds were so controlled, but even they couldn't bury all the pain.
Just then, the captain came into sickbay.
"Has the newest crew member arrived?" he asked. T'Pol was behind a curtain, so he could see her.
"No," said Phlox, "Hours away."
"May I see her?"
Phlox nodded.
Archer peered around the corner. T'Pol was still fully dressed, but she really looked about to give birth at any moment.
"I want you to look at these scans," said Jon, "I think we are being followed by a cloaked ship."
T'Pol reached up and took the PADD. She examined the reading for a few moments.
"Yes," she said, "I concur."
"So, anything interesting going on with you today?"
T'Pol did not respond.
"Good luck," said Jon as he headed up to the bridge.
He met Essilia there. She was sure they were being tailed by the Grey Guard. Mainstream Ikkarens did not use cloaking technology, it was banned. But she was sure the energy signature was an Ikkaren one.
"How is T'Pol?" asked Essilia, "Has the baby arrived?"
"Not yet," said Jon, "Hours away. So she had time to look over these scans. She agrees. We're being followed."
Essilia refrained from rolling her eyes. T'Pol would always be trusted first when it came to these kinds of things - even if the Vulcan woman was in the middle of giving birth to her son.
"Let's drop out of warp," said Jon, "We might as well see what they want sooner rather than later."
Within moments, a Grey Guard commander appeared on the viewscreen.
"How can I help you?" asked Jon.
"Are you Captain Archer?"
Jon nodded. "I am."
"We've got some intelligence that says you've got a Ikkaren woman aboard. We need to speak with her."
Essilia folded her arms. She glanced at Hoshi, who gestured that the Grey Guard commander wouldn't able to see her from his vantage point. He didn't know she was there.
"Her name is Lesilia. And we've come to take her to her husband."
****
Moments later, Essilia, Lesilia and Jon sat in his ready room.
"I have to go," said Lesilia, "If I don't, the Grey Guard will think Enterprise is taking sides. It will put everyone on this ship in danger."
Essilia smashed her hand down on the desk.
"They've clearly pressed him into service in exchange for finding you. It's insane. You have no idea what they are really planning on doing to him or you once you get home. You'll be put on display."
Lesilia looked out the window.
"So what? I can live with that more than I can live with putting this ship and all its good people in danger. We both knew this was temporary. . .that it was unlikely either of us would stay on Enterprise. Well, now its over for me."
Jon and Essilia glanced at each other. They had been discussing permanence for some time.
"It's for the greater good," said Lesilia.
Jon sighed. The greater good was a part of Ikkaren culture. They simply didn't put the needs of the one over the needs of the many. He guessed that Essilia would respect her sister's decision.
"Well," said Jon, "At least let me offer to take you to Ikkaria on Enterprise. I don't like you transporting over there alone."
Lesilia waved her long fingers.
"No," she said, "but if you'd be willing to escort me in a shuttle, I'll take you up on that."
"Will do," said Jon.
***
A few hours later, Malcolm, Jon, Essila and Lesilia took a shuttlepod to the Ikkaren craft. They docked and were immediately greeted by the Commander. Jon was friendly as he introduced himself. Even though he was terribly worried about his defacto sister-in-law, he wanted these Ikkarens to know that his ship was trying to remain neutral.
"I'm glad you are joining us," said the Commander to Lesilia, "How long until the rest of you depart?"
Essilia stepped forward.
"We'll depart when I'm certain my sister is safe."
Malcolm said nothing. He exercised every single bit of British emotional control he had. He hadn't even had time to be alone with her, for one second. He had been summoned to the shuttlepod. The next thing he knew, he was escorting her away from the ship. There had been no time for a goodbye.
He had thought he would feel heartbreak, but instead he felt anger. She didn't love Thoren and it wasn't safe for her to return to her home world. Why would she make such a stupid gesture? The Enterprise could outgun any Ikkaren vessel. They were of no threat. Why didn't the captain make her understand that?
Just then, Thoren appeared in the corridor. He was wearing a Grey Guard uniform.
Lesilia said nothing.
"So your a turncoat?" said Essilia, "What did they promise you?"
Thoren was tall and thin. He had coloring similar to Essilia, with dark hair. He remained silent.
"Leave, all of you," said Lesilia.
Malcolm heard sadness in her voice. She didn't want to go, so why would she? She couldn't have any more loyalty to him, now that he had abandoned her cause? Could she?
Malcolm saw Thoren reach for a weapon. He lifted it, but he appeared to have no target in mind. He reached for his phase pistol but before he lifted it - he saw Lesilia drop to the floor. Her yellow eyes were open, but expressionless.
Malcolm's hand shook and he just wanted to fire. But there were at least ten weapons pointed at him and the others.
He looked over at Essila, who had gone pure white. No color remained in her lips. or eerily, in her eyes. Those eyes rolled back, and she fainted into the captain's arms.
Thoren shrugged.
"The media wanted a happy ending to our story, but I'll wager her tragic death at the hands of meddling off worlders will sell even better."
Malcolm pointed his phase pistol at Thoren. But he knew, if he fired, he would die. That didn't matter. But he couldn't make the same decision for the captain or Essilia. He lowered his weapon.
"Go back to your ship, Captain," said Thoren.
****
Essilia came back to consciousness in the shuttle for just a moment, then returned to sleep. Malcolm took the controls of the shuttle so his captain could console the woman who had lost her only sister, her twin. Malcolm couldn't imagine what that would be like.
He was in pain of course, but it was hollow. It had all happened so quickly. It didn't seem real.
Just then, Hoshi rang on the comm.
"Just so you know," she said, "We've got a new crew member. A boy, with pointed ears like his mother. Everybody is healthy."
Malcolm took a deep breath. Numbness engulfed him. The only thing he knew was that he welcomed it.
"Tell Trip and T'Pol congratulations," said Jon. He made no mention of the events on the Ikkaren ship. There would be time for that later.
"Are you okay, Malcolm?"
Malcolm steered the shuttle toward the launch bay.
"Fine, sir," said Malcolm.
Both men knew that was a lie.