Title: The Sound of Silence
Author: Jazz
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Characters owned by Paramount. All liberties taken are the author's own.
Summary: Trip and T'Pol go undercover, and Trip overcomes his prejudices.
Author's Note: For some reason this story, which was intended to be a series of character studies with the plot lurking only in the background, has turned into a adventure revolving around illegal alien drug trafficking. I'm not sure how this happened, but it's kind of growing on me. So I intended Trip's story to get back into 'character mode', as it were.
Extra Note: The author is ashamed to report that the shipper inside her was trying to get out…whether it succeeded the reader may judge.
The Sound of Silence
by Jazz
~~~
Part 6:
Ten Ways to Irritate Vulcans
Okay, so I'm sitting in the mess after a ten hour shift, minding my own business, and all of a sudden I get a feeling down the back of my neck. You know, like someone's watching you, but when you turn to look…nothing. Not a soul. So I sit there, my food getting cold, and wait. Count the ruts on the table, the serrated points on my knife, my reflection in the dip of the spoon. In the end I either finish eating in a kind of distracted void, or give up and shove my plate into the disposal unit.
I mean it's not like I'm paranoid. Geez, Malcolm'd beat me on that score any old day. But lately…I don't know. I seem to be turning into something I'm not. For instance, the other day Jon tapped me on the shoulder and I nearly jumped a foot. I swear, the look on his face…well, at least I'm good for a laugh. If I told him why I'm so wound up I bet he'd jokingly suggest I see a shrink. Oh yeah, that's an image I'd pay to see: Trip Tucker, on the couch, babbling on about invisible people watching him eat tuna salad.
If you ask me…
She was doing it again, at Jon's briefing. Staring at my hands this time. Just because I hadn't had time to get cleaned up, so she spends half the meeting sitting there all prim and proper, with her little Vulcan nose twitching at the dust and dirt on my clothes, the engine oil on my skin, the cobwebs in my hair. Hell, Malcolm was almost as bad as me, but do you see him get the evil glare? God. That girl gets up my goat like no one's business.
Mind you, I admit I do bring in upon myself. Sometimes. Well, who could resist teasing such an upright, uptight, wound up like a caterpillar in a cocoon…Vulcan. I know I can't.
Can't I?
Maybe deep down I just want to see that caterpillar turn into a butterfly.
What am I thinking? Aw hell. I think I might need that shrink after all…
****
To top it off, Jon pulls T'Pol and myself behind after the briefing's finished, and drops a bombshell.
"When we reach Skoral, I want you two to go undercover. Find out about this 'night vapour' while Hoshi and I visit the diplomats."
The job doesn't worry me; I'm all for finding out who was in cohort with the woman on the Skori ship. The message Hoshi translated was unsettling, to say the least. And if we can find out who's responsible before anything serious goes down, well, all the better. Not that we alone can reverse some obviously deeply set opinions, but at least we'll get all sides of the story.
No, what I'm worried about is the fact that I won't be able to stop myself from getting into an argument with T'Pol. It's not like I set out to get her sprouting venom laced rules and regulations at me, or even worse, the silent treatment…I just can't help it. We clash, simple as that. I'm singing the major key while she's up the register in the minor.
But of course I say none of this to Jon, and instead nod along like a good little boy. Coward.
Later in sickbay Phlox kits us out to look like two Skori traders, and I try to catch T'Pol's eye; let her know this job is just as serious to me as it is to her. But the doc tuts at me and says stay still please, Mr Tucker. So I do, I sit there and feel guilty.
"Okay, all done." I feel a mirror pressed into my hand. "You may open your eyes."
I'm not sure to whether to laugh or not at my reflection. I was curious, to say the least, as to how the doc was going to replicate a third eye, but there it is, sitting low on my forehead. Fashioned to lie half closed, I can see a grey-blue lens surrounded by milky white. It's strange to look at but fascinating all the same, if a little gruesome. "Amazing…" Elsewhere I have small tattoos around my jawline and across the bridge of my nose, and tiny feathers hang in various places in my hair. When I look at T'Pol the grin that was threatening to burst spills unashamedly from my mouth. We look like a pair of strange, three-eyed hippies, and I tell her just that.
"That is an inaccurate description, Commander." T'Pol sits up and exits the room, her long wig swinging as if to mock the Vulcan stillness. "We are merely posing as traders, and have no connection with Earth."
I follow her out. "Don't worry, Rainbow of Vulcan, your secret's safe with me…"
****
Jon's plan is simple. When we get to Skoral, he and Hoshi will travel down as official ambassadors, and tell the heads of both factions what we know. We won't hide anything, which will essentially hand over all responsibility to their law enforcers and politicians. After all, we can't exactly take the law into our own hands. Therefore orders from the top brass are to tell the Skori and Boran all that we know, and let them handle it. Simple as that.
Except T'Pol and I will be doing some investigating of our own. We'll be invisible. In and out in a flash; they won't know we're there.
In the short hours it takes us to reach the planet I pack the shuttlepod, check and recheck the phase pistols, the communicators. I sit and twiddle my thumbs and generally get on everyone's nerves, while T'Pol mans her science station with a serene calm that somehow manages to quieten all those on the bridge until we have the alien planet on screen and we are silent and still, but all the time my palms are tingling with nervous energy and I'm itching to get going.
By the time a Skori ship arrives to pick up Jon and Hoshi, T'Pol and I have long since left.
****
When I look back, I think the first thing I'll remember is the smell.
Pungent and honey-sweet, the air is heavy with the scent of exotic spices, assaulting our noses with a sharp punch that hits immediately and lingers for a long time. Racks of dried organic produce line tables and hang from doorways, interspersed with wreaths of vibrant, hotly patterned fabrics. Not being very good with all things flowery and dried I sneeze.
"Commander."
T'Pol's voice comes very close to my ear, and I'm suddenly glad that we decided to stick close together. It wouldn't take much to get separated. The streets of Daccor are packed with people; people talking, bargaining, laughing, arguing, embracing. I start to reply when another tickling rush silences me and I cover my nose and mouth to sneeze, and then look up to find brown eyes levelled at mine, filled with slight concern…and perhaps a touch of amusement. "Perhaps you should have taken an analgesic," T'Pol suggests as I sneeze again. Now some Skori are looking at me curiously. Damn. We've been on this planet five minutes and already I'm attracting attention.
I cough and wipe my nose. "I'm fine, T'Pol." I pull gently at her arm and begin walking down the street. "Let's just keep movin', okay?"
Our plan is to find where this woman Rayna worked. Before we left I made certain we got all the information on this operation Hoshi could uncover, and we learnt some additional facts: that the group Rayna belonged to was called the Skori-Na faction, and its base of operations was somewhere in Daccor. Whether this group is the manufacturer or supplier of the drug, or both, we don't know. It could be neither, but at least we have someplace to start. Hoshi also gave us another name, that of a man to whom Rayna had composed, but not sent, a number of messages: Venn. Hoshi was of the opinion that this was a family relation, possibly a brother. So T'Pol and I make various enquiries about the streets, shops and bars; sticking to those who look likely to provide information, but importantly avoiding the Skori armsmen we see weaving intermittently though the crowds like dark ants among long grass.
I say Skori because I have yet to see any Boran. But this is a Skori city after all; for all I know they probably avoid each other like the plague. It would certainly go with what we've learnt about the two species so far.
Anyway, after hours of making discrete enquiries about the Skori-Na and Rayna and getting nowhere fast, we eventually wander into a bar, hidden way off down a side street; by this time equally in search of some refreshment as for clues. At least I am – T'Pol'd never talk about something as incidental as being thirsty. But I don't hear her disagree when I make the suggestion, so we go in. Inside it is dark and mercifully cool; a sharp relief to the heat of the close air in the streets, and while T'Pol moves off to an empty table I sidle up to the bar. After a cursory glance a few regulars make room, neither overtly curious nor hostile towards me, a stranger, to which I'm grateful. Stay inconspicuous, blend in, be invisible. It's been a cinch so far; we've obviously arrived at the height of the tourist season, but I have to remember that the more people there are the odds of finding our targets diminish unless we keep making enquiries. So I nod at the barman, and while he pours two drinks I casually mention Venn's name.
"Venn?" The Skori pulls at a tap with meaty hands and gives a chortle. "That troublemaker. What d'ya want with him, then?"
"I have some goods he wanted to inspect. Seedlings." I incline my head towards where T'Pol is sitting. "My, er, partner and I are traders. But I lost his contact details, and, well, Daccor's a big city."
The barman eyes me with suspicion. "It is a big city," he agrees, and places the glasses on the table. For a moment I think his suspicion is going to grow, but then he breaks into a crooked smile. "All right, you want Venn? Now let me think…he's usually – but no…" A pause, then he snaps his fingers. "I remember now: he mentioned going to his laboratory for a few days. He's a plant food scientist, makes wonderful things grow out of thin air, though not literally of course." He chuckles, causing his middle eye to blink like a moth's wing. "But I'm sure you already know that."
I try to steer the conversation back on course. "And this laboratory is…"
"In the Danas section, just a few streets away. You'll recognise it immediately – all that green!"
I leave the barman laughing and take our drinks to T'Pol. Our table is in the corner, with views of both the bar's interior and the street outside. T'Pol eyes her drink warily; doesn't remove her hands from their neat position in her lap. She says, "Did the barman disclose any information?"
"He most certainly did," I reply, taking a long drink and immediately coughing half of it back up. "Damn," I narrow my eyes at the pale, frothing beverage, "that's some brew. Wonder if we could synthesise it back on Enterprise."
"It would not be wise to become inebriated on an undercover operation." T'Pol's eyebrows flicker skyward with disapproval.
Almost instantly I feel my hackles rise. "Oh, lighten up, would ya? I was only kiddin'." My voice, grating at the burning sensation in my throat, rises slightly, and immediately I check myself, regretting the harshness of my tone. T'Pol shows no reaction but something shifts in her eyes and she breaks contact, looking out into the street. Well done, Trip, I curse, you just can't help risin' to the bait. I take in a long breath through my nose, and in a calmer voice say, "Uh, the barman told me Venn was workin' in a lab a block or so from here. Apparently he's a plant food scientist."
"Then I suggest we pay him a visit." T'Pol gives me an even stare, and then to my surprise she lifts her drink. I watch with amusement as her nose hovers hesitantly over the lip of the glass, and while half of me wants to see her reaction, the gentleman in me decides to protect her…this time. When I reach over and pull at the handle my fingers brush hers slightly.
"I probably wouldn't, T'Pol…"
I remove my hand and she places the glass back down. Doesn't say a word, but I know I'm forgiven.
****
The Danas section is a little out of the tourist streets, so there is less dawdling and more purpose is the gaits of those walking the pavements. The barman with the meaty hands was right: the plant food laboratory stands out like an oasis in the middle of a desert. I press my nose up close to the glass plate inlaid into the door and see a wall of plants – lush, verdant leaves cover bench tops; veined in sunlight they curl delicately amongst one another as if a spider had dipped its silk in green. T'Pol surveys the outside of the building, which is basically non-descript, and makes a note on her padd, which she then returns to her vest.
I try the handle, and with a hiss that lets out a waft of super-cooled air into the warm street, the door silently opens. "Shall we?" I offer T'Pol a gallant smile and hold it open, but she allows me nothing except a thinly disguised glint of amusement in her eyes and slips inside, leaving me to close the door behind us. Inside it is not only cool but also the air seems thinner. There is also a smell of chemicals, not strong but faintly nauseating all the same, and as T'Pol and I fan out around the room I take long breaths through the nose in order to acclimatise to the sickly aroma.
T'Pol motions to me that she is about to begin scanning and I should keep watch, to which I nod in reply and move towards the door and she discretely studies her padd. After a moment she looks up and I move to her side.
"Anything?"
She shakes her head. "While there are many chemicals stored here I cannot detect any traces of the oxygen compound." She tucks the scanner away out of sight.
I rub the bridge of my nose, where the prosthetics are starting to itch and open my eyes to find T'Pol staring curiously at me. Feeling tired I snap at her unnecessarily.
"What?"
"Perhaps you would find it less irritating if you refrained from touching it."
"Really? You think so? Gosh, I'd struggle through life if it weren't for your little pearls of wisdom, T'Pol." Frustrated, I walk away and gaze intently at the plant life growing in various containers on the bench.
T'Pol doesn't miss a beat. "Sarcasm is entirely unproductive to our situation, Commander."
I'm about to retort when suddenly I hear the soft thud of footsteps approaching from further in the building. "That's fine, T'Pol, but this argument's gonna have'ta wait. We've got company." And I plant myself by the Vulcan's side, murmuring, "Jus' let me do the talkin'."
"I doubt that will be difficult…" T'Pol's voice is soft, but I can do no more than glare at her before an inside door opens and a young Skori enters the room.
He is of average height and build, but finely boned. Brown-skinned with closely cropped hair, he is clothed in pale grey and white garments, finely weaved and shimmering with metallic hues. Scanning us in a second with tight-lidded brown eyes, he tilts a tattooed chin up in a half greeting. "Can I be of assistance?" His voice is light – youthful. And wary.
"I hope so," I reply. "We're looking for Venn. We're traders…we were told he'd be working here."
The Skori does not say anything for a moment, but continues to examine us. Finally he nods. "You've found him. I'm Venn."
Now T'Pol and I had already discussed what we'd say; that is, whether to continue with our masquerade or jump in immediately and reveal what we know about Rayna. Well, I say discussed, but it was more like an argument, and I have to say trying to reason with T'Pol while piloting through some pretty hairy atmospheric conditions is not something I'll rush into again in a hurry. Nevertheless we eventually came to a decision that we'd take the latter option, and tell Venn of Rayna's death, but only once we knew the nature of their relationship. So I say to him, "What's your connection with a woman named Rayna?"
Venn frowns, thrown for a moment. Without a word he walks to the outside door and peers through, finally drawing away and locking it. He does the same with the interior door. Beside me I feel T'Pol tense slightly and lift her hand to her phase pistol I know she has hidden in her clothes, but in some way I sense that Venn won't do anything to us. I can't explain why, I just do. The Skori meanwhile, having assured himself that we won't be overheard, motions us to sit at the middle bench.
"Are you her brother?" I ask, as we sit amongst the overflowing dishes and variegated leaves.
"Yes." Venn's voice is suddenly thick with worry. "What do you know of her? Where is she?"
T'Pol speaks for the first time. "How long is it since you last heard from her?"
Venn picks up a pair of tweezer-like instruments and kneads them impatiently. "Almost a month. She was on a small freight vessel bound for the second planet. Delivering…something. As a favour. For me." He dips his head and stares T'Pol in the eye. "Please tell me if you know any news of her."
When she speaks, T'Pol's voice is very low. Gentle. "We are not traders," she says, "nor are we members of your species. We are from a starship called Enterprise and have recently come from exploring the large nebula in your system. In that nebula we unexpectedly picked up a distress call; moreover a message from a vessel we later discovered had long since been damaged beyond repair. We searched this craft but found no survivors. Rayna was one of them, along with six other perished crew." She looks deeply into the Skori's eyes. "I am sorry for your loss."
I guess there are times when having a Vulcan around is a good thing…I'll say one thing for T'Pol; she'd make a fantastic counsellor. In the few seconds she just spent talking to Venn, by delivering the worst possible news she has somehow succeeded in calming the Skori's compulsive nerves. He breaks her eye contact and gazes off somewhere in the distance, but his hands no longer move in unsettled motions. After a moment, when the silence around us seems to have defeated eternity and I open my mouth to break it, Venn begins to speak in a voice so low that both T'Pol and I have to lean forward to hear.
"I think…" He breaks off, hesitantly. When he looks up he seems to have become no more than a child, and I realise that I mistook his maturity upon our meeting; this Skori must barely be a teenager. "I think," Venn starts again, forcing strength into his voice, "deep in my heart I was expecting this. It was going to happen no matter what I did. They knew she would do anything for me; how close we were. It was a ploy, and they said she is just a messenger – no one will know what she is carrying. And she didn't. I never told her the truth…she thought…" Venn presses a palm against his forehead, and whispers into the cool air. "She was innocent, but they found out about her connections…and eliminated her."
I glance at T'Pol. Her connections? And I say to him, "What's so important about Rayna's connections? You said she didn't know what she was carrying."
Venn looks at me and blinks. "No," he replies. "You don't understand. It wasn't Rayna they were trying to get to. It was her attachment to a man high up in the Skori circle. This man is said by many to be our next governor. Rayna is…was in love with him. But they made a mistake – they only found out about this attachment after she left on the transport, and thought she was going to double cross them. But she was innocent, she knew nothing, would tell nothing…" He closes his eyes. "She was innocent," he repeats, more forcefully.
"Venn, whom are you referring to when you speak of 'they'?" asks T'Pol. "Do you mean the Skori-Na?"
Venn says nothing but stands up, as do T'Pol and I. The Skori walks to the other side of the room, and I share a look with T'Pol. It is a look voicing in our minds a single thought. She understands, and speaks aloud.
"Can you take us to the Skori-Na?"
A nod, sharp and resolved. "I can. I will." Venn meets our gaze and there is understanding in his eyes, still and deep as the earth.
TBC