CHAPTER 4
**************
T'pol sat at a table in the messhall, slowly sipping her tea, and perusing the information on the PADD that she held in her other hand. As per usual, even though it was the busiest time of day and the messhall was packed, no one ventured to sit with her, opting instead to squeeze into the other tables.
Cher spotted her intended target and confidently approached T'pol, with tray in hand. "Good Evening Subcommander. May I sit here?" Without waiting for a reply, she promptly took the seat next to the Vulcan. "I don't know how you do it, the choices are not that great for us vegetarians."
T'pol looked up from her PADD, with almost an expression of surprise, mixed with respect. "Yes, Ensign. It can be quite trying; however, Chef is aware of my specific requirements. I could speak to him on your behalf to set up a similar arrangement."
'So far, so good.' She contemplated the next course of action. "Yes, thank you. I have developed a penchant for Plomeek broth and herbal teas."
They sat in silence throughout the remaining meal. T'pol's opinion of the young subordinate was improving by the minute - she did not ramble on at mealtime as did the other Ensigns.
The dinner consumed, Cher made her excuses. "I must go to the gym while I have the chance. Thank you for your company, Subcommander."
Just as Cher prepared to leave, T'pol made an uncharacteristic request. "Ensign, may I join you? I require a sparring partner. Have you any experience with the martial arts?"
"Why, yes I do."
"If you do not mind waiting, I have a few errands to complete first. Shall we meet in about 90 minutes?"
Cher nodded her affirmation, and then mentally checked off another point on her expanding to-do list.
*************
Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, Cher rubbed her hands furiously under the nearly scalding water coming from the taps. She was only satisfied when the dark grey water in the sink became clear. After drying her hands, she looked up and said, "So how do you think we are doing so far?"
No reply was heard, but she continued. "Yes, I know you want me to work faster, but this isn't going to be easy. That woman has ice running in her veins. Although I have to give you credit, the whole 'staying quiet during the meal' was a stroke of genius. I'm sure she scares the hell out of most, so they likely brattle on when they are around her."
Again, she paused. Her expression was of concentration. She then gave an exaggerated nod, and went to her closet to pick out an outfit for her work- out with T'pol.
**************
They met just outside of the doors of the gym. 'Punctual,' T'pol noted with approval. Maybe she had finally found another female with whom she could relate on the ship. It was not that Hoshi was not her friend, but she did tend to spend an immense amount of time with unnecessary pursuits, such as gossiping.
When they stepped into the room, they found that it was empty. T'pol rather preferred to exert herself physically in a less disordered atmosphere, therefore was relieved. Her contentment was interrupted, however, by a series of expletives coming from behind one of the weight machines.
As the voice was unmistakable, Cher cheerfully called out, "Oh, good evening, Commander!"
Trip stood up from behind the equipment. He was diaphoretic, and his hair was disheveled. His uniform had been replaced by a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and a blue tank top, which was streaked with what appeared to be grease; a matching streak darkened his left cheek. With a crooked grin, he first acknowledged Cher, but then looked a bit startled at seeing T'pol standing next to her. Memories of his earlier conversation with the Ensign were making it difficult for him to think of something to say to either of them. He managed, "Oh, hi," before ducking back down, to complete whatever he was doing.
Cher gave T'pol a quick smile. "So, should we start with some stretching? Then, you can show me some of your moves, Subcommander."
T'pol hesitated for a moment, and craned her neck to see exactly what Trip was doing. As she could not see him, she stepped onto the centre mat and started to limber herself up. It was not long before they were both perspiring from the intensive work-out regimen that T'pol had initiated.
Throughout the workout, Cher kept an eye out for the Commander. Periodically, she would catch him peering from his hiding place. He was especially interested in checking out the supple Vulcan as she moved almost cat-like around the mat. Cher laughed to herself whenever T'pol would glance in his direction - Trip would quickly avert his eyes, and pretend to be hard at work, repairing what Cher knew was likely already fixed.
After T'pol had again succeeded at pinning her to the mat after a failed hip throw, Cher looked up at the Vulcan, in awe. "Subcommander, where did you learn to do that?"
"I am considered a master of the Vulcan Martial Art of Suus Mahna. However, I have since incorporated moves I learned from a Sensei, who lived in Chinatown while I was stationed in San Francisco."
"Well, I wish that I could learn to be a tenth as proficient as you are, Subcommander." Cher cringed slightly, at her less-than-subtle 'brown- nosing'.
"Thank you." T'pol did not hesitate with her reply. "And, Miss Woodhouse, you may call me T'pol when we are not on duty."
"WHAT?" Trip exclaimed, jumped up from behind the weight machine, and came stomping over to the 2 women. He stopped about ½ meter in front of T'pol, and stared at her, hands fixed on his hips. "WHAT?"
She merely raised an eyebrow, and then looked at Cher, whose expression also suggested that she was confused by the commander's behavior. He seemed to be again angry with her, although she could not fathom what the trigger was, this time.
Trip waited for a reply to his ambiguous question. But as none were forthcoming, he shook his head in disgust, and stormed out of the gym.
Unsolicited, Cher presented her take on the situation. "I think he's jealous."
"Excuse me, Miss Woodhouse, but why would Mr. Tucker be jealous?"
"Well, you know how men are. . . ." Cher was having difficulty keeping a straight face, and yet she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "I think he was surprised that you and I are becoming friends. Or. . . or maybe. . . it's just that you said that I could call you T'pol when we are off duty."
"Why would Mr. Tucker be disturbed by the use of such informalities? He has called me by my proper name since we first met."
"Probably because YOU have never told HIM that he could call you T'pol. Or, have you?"
"None the less, he has done so despite my never giving him permission." T'pol appeared to be satisfied with her response.
"That's not the point, T'pol. His ego is bruised. I believe that he considers your relationship to be . . .a unique one. . . despite the passionate disagreements that seem to define it to others. Love and hate are not all that different, you know." Cher walked over to the bench and picked up her sports bag, hoping that she had not gone too far with that last claim. She fought the urge to look back at T'pol, as she was dying to see if her facial expression would give away what she was thinking.
"I believe that you are mistaken in your assessment."
Cher turned, and suppressed a smile. She noticed that, despite her rebuttal, T'pol was still contemplating the presented argument. "Well, thank you T'pol. I would enjoy sparring with you again sometime. I should really go now. Commander Tucker has a busy day planned for me."
"Yes, that would be agreeable," T'pol said almost absent-mindedly.
Cher strutted out of the gym, pleased with herself for another job well- done. It was only after hearing the swoosh of the doors, that she allowed herself to burst out into laughter.
TBC . . . .
**************
T'pol sat at a table in the messhall, slowly sipping her tea, and perusing the information on the PADD that she held in her other hand. As per usual, even though it was the busiest time of day and the messhall was packed, no one ventured to sit with her, opting instead to squeeze into the other tables.
Cher spotted her intended target and confidently approached T'pol, with tray in hand. "Good Evening Subcommander. May I sit here?" Without waiting for a reply, she promptly took the seat next to the Vulcan. "I don't know how you do it, the choices are not that great for us vegetarians."
T'pol looked up from her PADD, with almost an expression of surprise, mixed with respect. "Yes, Ensign. It can be quite trying; however, Chef is aware of my specific requirements. I could speak to him on your behalf to set up a similar arrangement."
'So far, so good.' She contemplated the next course of action. "Yes, thank you. I have developed a penchant for Plomeek broth and herbal teas."
They sat in silence throughout the remaining meal. T'pol's opinion of the young subordinate was improving by the minute - she did not ramble on at mealtime as did the other Ensigns.
The dinner consumed, Cher made her excuses. "I must go to the gym while I have the chance. Thank you for your company, Subcommander."
Just as Cher prepared to leave, T'pol made an uncharacteristic request. "Ensign, may I join you? I require a sparring partner. Have you any experience with the martial arts?"
"Why, yes I do."
"If you do not mind waiting, I have a few errands to complete first. Shall we meet in about 90 minutes?"
Cher nodded her affirmation, and then mentally checked off another point on her expanding to-do list.
*************
Standing in front of her bathroom mirror, Cher rubbed her hands furiously under the nearly scalding water coming from the taps. She was only satisfied when the dark grey water in the sink became clear. After drying her hands, she looked up and said, "So how do you think we are doing so far?"
No reply was heard, but she continued. "Yes, I know you want me to work faster, but this isn't going to be easy. That woman has ice running in her veins. Although I have to give you credit, the whole 'staying quiet during the meal' was a stroke of genius. I'm sure she scares the hell out of most, so they likely brattle on when they are around her."
Again, she paused. Her expression was of concentration. She then gave an exaggerated nod, and went to her closet to pick out an outfit for her work- out with T'pol.
**************
They met just outside of the doors of the gym. 'Punctual,' T'pol noted with approval. Maybe she had finally found another female with whom she could relate on the ship. It was not that Hoshi was not her friend, but she did tend to spend an immense amount of time with unnecessary pursuits, such as gossiping.
When they stepped into the room, they found that it was empty. T'pol rather preferred to exert herself physically in a less disordered atmosphere, therefore was relieved. Her contentment was interrupted, however, by a series of expletives coming from behind one of the weight machines.
As the voice was unmistakable, Cher cheerfully called out, "Oh, good evening, Commander!"
Trip stood up from behind the equipment. He was diaphoretic, and his hair was disheveled. His uniform had been replaced by a pair of baggy grey sweatpants and a blue tank top, which was streaked with what appeared to be grease; a matching streak darkened his left cheek. With a crooked grin, he first acknowledged Cher, but then looked a bit startled at seeing T'pol standing next to her. Memories of his earlier conversation with the Ensign were making it difficult for him to think of something to say to either of them. He managed, "Oh, hi," before ducking back down, to complete whatever he was doing.
Cher gave T'pol a quick smile. "So, should we start with some stretching? Then, you can show me some of your moves, Subcommander."
T'pol hesitated for a moment, and craned her neck to see exactly what Trip was doing. As she could not see him, she stepped onto the centre mat and started to limber herself up. It was not long before they were both perspiring from the intensive work-out regimen that T'pol had initiated.
Throughout the workout, Cher kept an eye out for the Commander. Periodically, she would catch him peering from his hiding place. He was especially interested in checking out the supple Vulcan as she moved almost cat-like around the mat. Cher laughed to herself whenever T'pol would glance in his direction - Trip would quickly avert his eyes, and pretend to be hard at work, repairing what Cher knew was likely already fixed.
After T'pol had again succeeded at pinning her to the mat after a failed hip throw, Cher looked up at the Vulcan, in awe. "Subcommander, where did you learn to do that?"
"I am considered a master of the Vulcan Martial Art of Suus Mahna. However, I have since incorporated moves I learned from a Sensei, who lived in Chinatown while I was stationed in San Francisco."
"Well, I wish that I could learn to be a tenth as proficient as you are, Subcommander." Cher cringed slightly, at her less-than-subtle 'brown- nosing'.
"Thank you." T'pol did not hesitate with her reply. "And, Miss Woodhouse, you may call me T'pol when we are not on duty."
"WHAT?" Trip exclaimed, jumped up from behind the weight machine, and came stomping over to the 2 women. He stopped about ½ meter in front of T'pol, and stared at her, hands fixed on his hips. "WHAT?"
She merely raised an eyebrow, and then looked at Cher, whose expression also suggested that she was confused by the commander's behavior. He seemed to be again angry with her, although she could not fathom what the trigger was, this time.
Trip waited for a reply to his ambiguous question. But as none were forthcoming, he shook his head in disgust, and stormed out of the gym.
Unsolicited, Cher presented her take on the situation. "I think he's jealous."
"Excuse me, Miss Woodhouse, but why would Mr. Tucker be jealous?"
"Well, you know how men are. . . ." Cher was having difficulty keeping a straight face, and yet she continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "I think he was surprised that you and I are becoming friends. Or. . . or maybe. . . it's just that you said that I could call you T'pol when we are off duty."
"Why would Mr. Tucker be disturbed by the use of such informalities? He has called me by my proper name since we first met."
"Probably because YOU have never told HIM that he could call you T'pol. Or, have you?"
"None the less, he has done so despite my never giving him permission." T'pol appeared to be satisfied with her response.
"That's not the point, T'pol. His ego is bruised. I believe that he considers your relationship to be . . .a unique one. . . despite the passionate disagreements that seem to define it to others. Love and hate are not all that different, you know." Cher walked over to the bench and picked up her sports bag, hoping that she had not gone too far with that last claim. She fought the urge to look back at T'pol, as she was dying to see if her facial expression would give away what she was thinking.
"I believe that you are mistaken in your assessment."
Cher turned, and suppressed a smile. She noticed that, despite her rebuttal, T'pol was still contemplating the presented argument. "Well, thank you T'pol. I would enjoy sparring with you again sometime. I should really go now. Commander Tucker has a busy day planned for me."
"Yes, that would be agreeable," T'pol said almost absent-mindedly.
Cher strutted out of the gym, pleased with herself for another job well- done. It was only after hearing the swoosh of the doors, that she allowed herself to burst out into laughter.
TBC . . . .