"Mr. Tucker," Lt. Commander Archer watched the emotions crossing the cadets face. It seemed the young man was an open book. Indicating he take Anne's empty seat, Trip reluctantly sat. Sparing a glance for the increasingly red-faced Captain still digesting the information on the PADD, Jon asked, "care to tell me how a twenty-year-old is about to be the youngest Lieutenant in the history of Starfleet."
"Well," Trip hung his head, wanting to be anywhere else, especially with Ian Layton listening in on their conversation and very obviously unimpressed. "I guess it started when I attended grade school. First day the teacher called my Mama into class and suggested I be placed in an institution more suited to my academic prowess. You know the type, real smart kids, but I'd have to travel an hour each way, not something I'd enjoy."
"Too much time sitting still?" Jon asked, starting to get a sense of the younger man's humour and defensive mechanisms. "Your mother must be one strong lady, because I bet you were a mischievous child."
"You bet ya," Trip laughed, his southern drawl thickening as he became lost in memories. "I was always getting into some kind of scrape, and taking my siblings along with me. I can still here my Mama saying 'Trip, you're going to be the death of me' every time I did something I know she wouldn't approve of."
"Like now," Jon indicated Captain Layton.
"Yes and no, Sir," Tucker nodded. "She never did like a show off, but she taught all us kids to stand up for what we believe in."
"Trip?" Jon enquired, having given the younger man time to collect his thoughts.
"Charles Tucker the Third, Triple, Trip," Trip introduced, holding out a hand.
Taking the offered salutation, Jon held back from introducing himself. Exactly what held him back, Archer couldn't say. As Trip's firm fingers wrapped around his, Jon tightened his grip, holding it a few seconds longer than necessary. Watching those unwavering blues, the Lt. Commander knew it'd be difficult for most people not to feel attracted to the incorrigible individual.
"So," Jon played for time, attempting to rationalise his emotions.
"Truth be told," Trip chuckled, "I couldn't pull apart an engine on the transport, driver might have had something to say about it. Mama knew I'd get into more trouble than it was worth at that fancy school. She channelled my energies elsewhere."
Nodding, Archer silently encouraged Tucker to continue with a reassuring smile and a pat on the back. Unsure of his motives, the hand strayed higher, settling on the cadet's shoulder. Feeling a connection, Jon wondered if it had to do with Trip's defence of his father's engine and determination to make it fly, or if it might be something a little more personally motivated. It had been a long time since he'd felt the stirrings of physical attraction to someone.
"Ah, hell, can't you get this information from my Starfleet personnel file, Sir?" Trip asked, glancing up to find an intrigued expression on Archer's face. "Ain't like it's any secret. Besides, I saw Lt. Hemmings filling you in via your data PADD."
"Don't miss much, do you, Cadet?" Jon grinned, once again squeezing Tucker's shoulder. Trip didn't shy away from the contact, in fact, the kid seemed comforted by it.
"Try not to, Sir," Trip frowned. It looked like someone finally understood him, at least a little. Very few people got under Cadet Tucker's skin that quickly, and fewer still with anything resembling tolerance and support. Sighing, loudly, Trip decided to just get on with it. "I'd just turned sixteen when I graduated High School. Most of the kids in my class were a couple of years older. To tell the truth, I'd written to Professor Sying two years earlier asking if there were any remote courses I could do to make my time at college quicker so I could start actually playing with engines, not theorising about them. To say I was apathetic with regard to school would be an understatement. I'd pretty much finished the requirements to graduate high school at fourteen and needed something more academic to sit still in a classroom for six hours without going stir crazy. She agreed. By the time I actually got to campus, it took two summer sessions and the semesters in-between to complete my double degree. I already had an idea for a master's project. A year later, Starfleet recruited me, on the proviso I graduate Officer training before completing my PhD."
"Starfleet gets exclusive access to your data while you demanded the shortest possible stint as an Ensign," Archer concluded. "Not to mention working at the orbital station to test your theories. So, you pass your exams, become Ensign Tucker for six months, submit your thesis and get promoted to Full Lieutenant. What then?"
"Captain Jeffery's engineering team," Trip stated with a frown.
"You think Layton's an engineering fool," Archer whispered, his eyes darting to the Captain, ensuring Ian hadn't heard.
"Commodore Forrest thinks I need to learn to follow orders instead of giving them," Trip exhaled meaningfully. He'd forgotten about Layton being in the room. "Jeffery's might not know his EPS conduit from his plasma relays, but he's been an officer for thirty years. If anyone can give orders, it's Captain Jeffery's, Sir. I slip up, I get booted out, no matter what I know."
"Still didn't answer my question, Cadet?" Archer allowed an eyebrow to rise slightly. "What's your end goal?"
"Theoretically," Trip got that far away look in his eye, "the principle behind Henry Archer's engine is capable of warp 5 with the new injector design and intermix calculations. We just have to build it."
"You want in on the ground level?" Archer began to see the younger man's determination and ambition, not to mention his need to remain in Starfleet to realise his dreams.
"Hell, Sir, I designed one of the critical components, probably will revamp several more in the future," Trip stood and paced, "and that ain't all. My PhD is based on those new calculations. I know we can get to warp 2 if Starfleet will just continue the NX project. I guarantee it'll happen in the next five years, if the Vulcan High Council would just give some of us younger engineers a chance. In ten, with the right team, I could have a ship doing warp 5. Each generation of upgrades is going to need redesigned components, new material and manufacturing techniques. Each warp factor places so much extra stress on the vessel surrounding the engine, that the entire ship needs to be modified."
Remaining silent, Jonathan Archer didn't quite know what to say. He'd been so focused on the engine, it looked like he'd missed the bigger picture. Standing to grip the Cadet's shoulder once again, he hoped the kid would continue talking. It seemed Tucker only required a little human contact and a sympathetic ear to expound his ideas. Beneath that buoyant exterior, the kid was insecure and more than a little out of his depth. There was no doubt Charles Tucker the Third knew his theory, he could get people to listen, but obviously his age and intelligence often worked against him.
"Look, all I know is Henry Archer died sixteen years ago. He must have been a very frustrated man, with all that political opposition to his design," Trip sat, finally exhausted by his outburst. "That's all I want to do. Be on the first warp capable ship that makes it out of the solar system."
"You're going to need a little help," Jon smirked, "to achieve that goal."
Sighing, Trip felt his shoulders slumping and his head falling in dejection. Something made him look up at the Lt. Commander when he squeezed Tucker's shoulder once again, and asked in a sarcastic tone, "you going to help me get there?"
A chuckle erupted from Jon's throat as he wondered if Commodore Forest had deliberately set up this meeting in a roundabout way. Tucker should be the one giving the lecture series on Advance Warp Theory, not Captain Leyton. Not only would the speeches be more stimulating, Charles Tucker would establish his reputation as one of the most emanate engineers of this generation. The tour was scheduled to conclude on the orbital station, which would lead into, then Ensign Tuckers, research project. Jonathon Archer knew he could make the timing work.
"Let me introduce myself, Trip," Jon held out his hand. Confused, it took Tucker several seconds to respond. When he did, Archer ensured he captured the younger man's eye and pumped their clasped digits. "Lt. Commander Jonathan Archer, at your service."
"No shit!" a wide grin covered Trip's face.
"Cadet," distain dripping from his tone, Captain Layton's unhappy visage broke the comradery. Ian hadn't made his rank by being a bumbling fool. Over the years, he'd learnt to cultivate that Captain's tone, listen to his crew and analyse most situations by simply watching. He'd started with the same level of energy and desire as the two men standing before him. The passion had faltered, probably with the increasing Vulcan interference in Humanities thirst to reach the stars. Cadet Tucker might prove the NX programs saviour, yet his record demonstrated he needed careful handling to become a Starfleet Officer able to take orders. "Consider yourself on report for inappropriate conduct. Maybe you'll learn to watch your mouth in future, and address an officer as Sir."
"Yes, Sir," Trip's head snapped up. Anyone could see the fury and self-doubt warring as he tried to get himself under control. He'd really wanted to say, "No shit, Sir."
Standing, Jon waited for the senior officer to finish glaring at Tucker and acknowledge him. With a sigh, Ian played his part by barking, "what?"
"As I understand it," Jon chose his words carefully, "this class will graduate in two weeks, if they pass their exams."
Captain Layton got the drift. Placing a hand on his chin, Ian's eyes scrutinised the Cadet. He wasn't cowering, but he didn't have the nerve to stand his ground against a superior officer, particularly after a reprimand. So much potential, yet he hadn't learnt to play the Starfleet game. Anyone who wanted to go places in this organisation needed to be politically savvy, learn diplomacy and have a shrewdness about them someone of Cadet Tuckers age lacked. With the right mentor and a little seasoning, someone with the boy's smarts might just convince the Vulcans that humanity could reach the stars on their own terms and in their own time.
It seemed Lt. Commander Archer managed to bond with the cadet after a few moments' quiet conversation. Oh, Layton understood Archer's motivations. He wanted to be on that first truly interstellar ship, possibly as its captain and this kid might be his ticket, even his Chief Engineer if Research and Development ever released him. Smirking, Ian Layton knew he'd missed that boat, thanks to the Vulcan's.
"I'll speak with Commodore Forest," Layton stated. Not that the savvy old bastard hasn't set this up, if I know him. He probably wanted Archer and Tucker on this little publicity stunt right from the get go but those dam Vulcan's preferred rank and age. Two men, in the prime of their lives, the media will eat them up. "In the meantime, Cadet," Ian warned in his most severe tone, "you'd better study for those exams. Can't have an officer not knowing proper protocol and procedure when he's representing Starfleet."
Swallowing hard, Trip watched the cantankerous captain walk out of the room. Turning to Lt. Commander Archer, he asked softly, "did he just say what I think he did?"
"Dam straight, Cadet," Jon couldn't hold back the smile. Clapping the younger man on the back once again, he stated, "as I recall, Friday night usually involves some significant relaxing at a local bar, waking up with a bed mate and a major hangover. You got time for an aperitif before joining your classmates?"
Having just been reminded of protocol, Trip answered regretfully, "sorry, Sir."
"Another night," Jon responded. Hearing the disappointment made his heart beat a little faster and a part of his anatomy stir. Hell, get you're self under control. He's just a kid and probably as straight as they come with that colouring and body. Half the girls in the class are a little in love with him. All Tucker has to do is give them even the slightest indication and they'd roll over without a second thought. Face it, Archer, it's time to get shitfaced and laid when you can't keep your hands to yourself.
Trip found the thought welcome and smiled shyly. "Once I'm an Ensign, Sir."
Letting out a hearty chuckle, Archer shook his head. Maybe I'm wrong about him. If nothing else, I believe we can be friends. In the meantime, the kid needs a mentor to get through all the BS Starfleet is going to throw at him. "Get your gear, Cadet. I'll walk you out of the building."
"Yes, Sir," Trip answered, finding his steps suddenly became lighter.