Chapter 4: Separation Anxiety
T'Pol slowly opened her eyes in the darkness. Her internal chronometer notified her that there were yet three hours remaining before dawn. Behind her, Malcolm's steady breathing told her he still slept. She could feel his breath soft on her neck with each exhalation, his bare arm wrapped around her waist, cool hand resting against the warm skin of her stomach. The touch felt so safe and comforting that she moved in closer against him.
T'Pol scanned the campsite, wondering what had awakened her. After a moment of concentration, she became aware of a steady hum filling the air. A very familiar hum.
"Malcolm," she hissed, laying her hand on his arm. "Malcolm, wake up."
He mumbled sleepily and raised his head. "What is it?"
"A shuttle," she whispered back.
His voice dropped to match hers. "What?'
"The shuttle is here." T'Pol pushed his arm off and sat up, raking her fingers downward through her hair.
"Bloody hell!" Malcolm cursed with quiet intensity. He sprang from the blankets and gathered up their clothing, tossing her uniform to her.
As quickly as they could they pulled their clothes on. T'Pol was fully dressed, but Malcolm was still slipping his undershirt over his head when they heard a familiar voice call, "Hello! Anyone there?"
"Shit!" Malcolm whispered in the semi-darkness as he fumbled with the zipper of his coverall. He had it half-zipped when Commander Tucker came around the corner, flashlight in hand.
"Hey, there you are!" Tucker said excitedly. He swung his torch from T'Pol's face to Malcolm's, his smile faltering a little when neither of them greeted him.
"You guys ok?" Tucker asked uncertainly. He swung his flashlight around the campsite. The beam lingered for a brief second on the haphazardly entwined blankets.
Malcolm finally found his tongue. "Fine, thanks. Glad to see you, Commander." He finished zipping his coverall while T'Pol calmly picked up their blankets and stowed them in the emergency kit.
"Good to see you too, Malcolm. Sub-Commander." Tucker stuck his head outside of the shelter and called, "Captain, I found 'em. In here!"
T'Pol continued her task of cleaning up the campsite, dumping the water from the kettle and stowing it and the knife in the bag. When the captain and Ensign Mayweather entered a moment later, she straightened up to greet them.
"T'Pol! Malcolm! You're a sight for sore eyes," Archer cried when he saw them.
"I am pleased to see you as well, Captain," T'Pol intoned.
"Do you need any help packing up?"
"I believe I have everything. We were not able to rescue much from the shuttle before it sank."
Archer strolled around the shelter, shining his torch at the roof and walls. "This is quite a cozy little shelter you've got here. Something they teach at the Vulcan Science Academy?"
"That is Lieutenant Reed's handiwork," T'Pol replied blandly. Even in the faint light from the approaching sunrise, she could see Malcolm's ears redden.
"Well, I'd love to hear all about it later. As for right now, I bet you'd like to get back to the ship, huh?"
Malcolm caught himself peeking at T'Pol out of the corner of his eye. Apparently the word of the day was 'pretend.' Pretend nothing had happened. Well, if there's one thing the Reeds are masters at, it's pretending, Malcolm told himself wryly. "Certainly, Captain," he said, perhaps a little too brightly. "Will we be able to retrieve the shuttle?"
"I think we could manage it," Trip said eagerly, as the group began the short trek back to the waiting shuttlepod. "Maybe you could help me on that, Malcolm."
The group clambered one by one into the shuttle, the captain and Travis taking the front, Trip in the middle, and T'Pol in the back. Malcolm, who was the last one in, hesitated for a moment, then chose the seat next to T'Pol.
"First I'm going to have a hot shower, eat a meal that doesn't contain any fish or dried berries, and sleep for at least twenty-four hours. Then we'll see about raising the shuttle," Malcolm grinned at the prospect.
Trip turned in his seat to share Malcolm's grin. "I think you've earned it, pal," he said in an undertone. Malcolm felt his ears, which had never completely recovered from T'Pol's compliment, heat up again. He decided to ignore his body's reaction while he shot Trip a look of non-comprehending innocence.
The corner of Trip's lip quirked upward in a knowing smile, but he turned back around in his chair without saying anything more. Malcolm tried to catch T'Pol's eye without drawing the attention of the other occupants of the shuttle, but he was unsuccessful, as she stared straight ahead and ignored him completely. After a moment, he gave up the effort and looked away, carefully hiding his hurt feelings and trying to disregard the unsettled sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"So you caught some fish, huh, Malcolm?" the captain called from the front of the shuttle.
"Yes, Captain. Speedy little buggers they were, too."
"Good for you."
"What was it like going through a gravity well?" Travis asked.
Before Malcolm could respond, T'Pol spoke up. "It is not an experience I would like to repeat."
The captain and Trip both chuckled, and after a moment Malcolm let himself join in. He still watched T'Pol out of the corner of his eye, desperately searching her face for any expression, any hint of what she was feeling. For some reason he felt like his very existence depended on her response. But he was disappointed because her face gave no clue as to her emotional state, if she even had one at all. She did not speak again on the journey back to Enterprise.
When the shuttle reached the launch bay, Malcolm followed Trip out and turned back with his hand out to help T'Pol disembark. She ignored him, however, instead simply clambering out on her own as if Malcolm didn't even exist.
It felt to Malcolm like an eternity before they were cleared from decon, and even longer before the doctor gave them a clean bill of health. Throughout the examination Malcolm studiously avoided eye contact with T'Pol, which wasn't too difficult because she never looked in his direction.
As soon as the doctor cleared them, T'Pol turned to the captain. "I am anxious for a hot shower and sleep, Captain. Thank you for finding us." T'Pol nodded at the rest of the group. "Thank you, Commander, Doctor." Her eyes rested on Malcolm for a brief moment. "Lieutenant," she said coolly.
"Sub-Commander," was his automatic response. His stomach did a flip-flop when her expressionless eyes met his and then flicked away again.
T'Pol turned on her heel and strode calmly out of the room without a backward glance. Malcolm chewed on the inside of his lip while he watched her go.
"Well, Malcolm, it's good to have you back." Archer clapped Malcolm on the back, drawing his attention away from T'Pol's retreating form.
"Good to be back, Captain. I'm tired, too, so if you don't mind, I'll head to my quarters."
"That's fine, Malcolm. Dinner in the captain's mess tonight, say 1900?"
"I'll be there. Thank you, Captain." Malcolm nodded to Trip and Travis. "Thank you all."
Malcolm tried to stride out confidently, as T'Pol had, but discovered it was impossible. All he could think about was talking to T'Pol, but she had made it fairly clear that their relationship was back on a professional level only. It's for the best, he told himself firmly. But somehow that wasn't good enough now. He wanted more.
**
T'Pol sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters with her meditation candle centered in front of her. It had been a very long day, the longest part being dinner in the captain's mess, with Commander Tucker asking all sorts of intrusive, annoying questions. T'Pol had had to employ emotion- suppression techniques several times to avoid allowing her irritation to show.
Now in the welcome quiet of her quarters, she focused her attention on the solitude and purity of the flame, shutting out all other thoughts. She felt herself sinking into the familiar rhythm of the meditation liturgy, her mind clearing effortlessly.
The ringing of her doorchime broke her concentration, which caused a slight pang of irritation. "Come," she said, with her eyes still fixed on the flame.
The door slid open and T'Pol looked up to see Lieutenant Reed standing awkwardly in the entrance. He made no move to enter the room.
"Enter."
"I'm disturbing you. I'll come back later." He started to turn to leave, but T'Pol called him back.
"Come in, Lieutenant. You are not disturbing me." T'Pol blew out the flame and rose gracefully to her feet.
"I-I wanted to talk to you." Reed said uncomfortably as he stepped into the room. The door slid shut behind him.
"So speak."
"What's-I mean, I want to know what you're thinking." He did not make eye contact.
"On what subject?"
Reed's eyes flicked up with obvious annoyance. "T'Pol, stop that. You know what I mean."
T'Pol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had hoped to avoid this conversation altogether, but it appeared that would be impossible. "Lieutenant," she said seriously, "it would be inappropriate for us to pursue a romantic relationship."
Reed's eyes flitted away again. "You're right, of course."
"I acted--impulsively. I was overtired and I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. It will not happen again."
"No, of course not." Reed's tone was light, his voice quiet. "We wouldn't want to do anything out of clouded judgment, would we?"
T'Pol watched him curiously. He was reacting with much more restraint than she had expected. "It would be best if we pretended it did not happen at all."
"Pretending is my forte, Sub-Commander," Reed said flippantly. T'Pol tried desperately to read his face, to see past his off-hand comment to his true feelings. She had never been proficient at reading emotions, a skill which appeared to come naturally to most of the humans she met. She believed this ineptitude put her at a distinct disadvantage, particularly in situations such as the present.
She was able to see no hint of any underlying hurt on his face, so she decided to take his comments at face value. The only conclusion was that he had no desire for a relationship beyond the strictly professional. T'Pol was surprised by the almost physical ache that this realization evoked. She quickly suppressed the emotions before they betrayed her by showing up on her face.
"Did you wish to discuss anything else?" she asked finally.
"No, that's all. Good night, Sub-Commander." He smiled briefly, a tight smile that never quite reached his eyes, and left.
"Good night, Lieutenant," T'Pol said to the closed door.
**
Trip stood with a toolbox in each hand and surveyed the outside of Shuttlepod Two. With the gaping hole in the side, it looked like it had been ripped open by a pair of giant jaws. He whistled in surprise at the damage.
Trip looked back at Malcolm, who stood with arms folded and a deep frown on his face. "I'm amazed you survived that."
"Very nearly didn't," Reed grimaced. "If T'Pol hadn't dragged me out, you'd be looking at my corpse right now, sitting right there in the pilot's seat."
Trip shuddered. "I don't even wanna think about that. Well, I guess we've got our work cut out for us."
Together they pried open the hatch, which was stuck half-shut, and climbed into the pod. Trip immediately opened the access panels in the back while Malcolm headed toward the front.
"Can ya purge the injector manifold?" Trip said, setting aside the panel cover and flicking on his flashlight.
"I'm on it." Malcolm pressed the appropriate lever, but instead of the expected hiss of escaping air, they heard a trickle of water running.
"Damn. I was afraid of that. Mal, can you help me back here? The manifolds are all full of water."
A moment later Malcolm was by his side, and Trip handed him the flashlight. "Lay down here," he said, pointing. Malcolm complied. "Keep the light aimed at the manual release valve." He pointed at the spot inside the access port, and Malcolm obediently trained the light on it. Trip lay down on the floor next to him and stuck his head inside the port to reach the valve.
"So, uh, how are things going?"
"Fine," Malcolm answered flatly. Trip turned his head to look at him incredulously.
"That's it? Fine? Details, man!"
Malcolm very deliberately aimed the flashlight directly into Trip's eyes. "Details about what?"
Trip squinted to see Malcolm's face past the light. "You. T'Pol. One set of blankets."
"It was for warmth."
"Bullshit. Why were you putting your clothes on in the middle of the night?"
"It's none of your business, Commander."
"Don't give me that, Malcolm. I told you all about Kaitaama."
"A bit more than I wanted to know, to tell you truth."
Trip yanked the flashlight from Malcolm's hand. "Can you get me a hypospanner?" Malcolm sat up and crawled to the toolbox. When Trip stuck his hand out from under the panel, Malcolm slapped the correct tool into his palm. "At least tell me how long it's been going on."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Since before you were stranded together?" Trip used the hypospanner to open the manual release valve a half-turn, grunting with the effort. Nothing came out, but he could hear gurgling somewhere inside the pipes.
"Trip . . ."
He held the spanner out to Malcolm. "How about the next size up?" Malcolm took the tool from his hand and gave him a different one. "It must have been after we were stuck on Shuttlepod One, unless you're better at keeping a secret than I thought," Trip mused.
He heard Malcolm sigh in resignation. "It was one time, all right."
Trip pulled his head out from under the panel and stared at Malcolm in surprise. "No way!"
When Malcolm nodded mutely, Trip gave a low whistle and broke into a grin that was almost a leer. "You boinked the ice princess!"
"I wouldn't call it 'boinking', Trip."
"All right, 'buggered,' 'rogered,'" Trip rejoined with a terrible imitation of a British accent. "Whatever ya wanna call it. So . . . how was it?"
Malcolm stared at a spot on the bulkhead with a far-away look in his eyes. "It was the most incredible experience I have ever had in my life," he said softly.
Trip's eyebrows shot up at that. "Whoa."
Malcolm shook his head abruptly, as if trying to clear it. The far-away look disappeared and his eyes dropped. "Anyway, it's over."
"What? Whaddaya mean, over?"
"It would be inappropriate for us to pursue a romantic relationship."
"So she dumped ya, huh?" Trip said sympathetically. He stuck his arm up inside the panel and heaved on the valve with all his might. There was more gurgling, and then a rush of brackish, green-brown water flowed out of the pipes and out the open panel. Trip jumped to his feet, but not fast enough to avoid getting his uniform soaked.
"Ugh, gross."
"You think that's bad, try nearly drowning in it."
In disgust, Trip began packing up his tools. "I'm gonna have to get a team down here. This is a waste of time."
"I agree. If you don't mind, I've got work to do in the armory."
"You never answered my question."
"I wasn't aware you had asked one," Malcolm evaded.
"Did she dump ya?"
"There was no dumping involved. It was . . . mutual. Besides, dumping implies a relationship, and there wasn't one."
Trip clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. "Tough break, pal."
Malcolm shook off the hand. "I'm fine, really. Are we finished?"
"Yeah, I guess so. You wanna go get some lunch?"
"No thank you. I've got work to do."
"I'll take a rain check then. See ya."
Malcolm just nodded and headed out of the shuttle bay. Trip watched him go, shaking his head. Malcolm had certainly acted nonchalant about the whole breakup thing, but Trip had the feeling there was more to it than he was letting on.
To be continued, of course . . .
T'Pol slowly opened her eyes in the darkness. Her internal chronometer notified her that there were yet three hours remaining before dawn. Behind her, Malcolm's steady breathing told her he still slept. She could feel his breath soft on her neck with each exhalation, his bare arm wrapped around her waist, cool hand resting against the warm skin of her stomach. The touch felt so safe and comforting that she moved in closer against him.
T'Pol scanned the campsite, wondering what had awakened her. After a moment of concentration, she became aware of a steady hum filling the air. A very familiar hum.
"Malcolm," she hissed, laying her hand on his arm. "Malcolm, wake up."
He mumbled sleepily and raised his head. "What is it?"
"A shuttle," she whispered back.
His voice dropped to match hers. "What?'
"The shuttle is here." T'Pol pushed his arm off and sat up, raking her fingers downward through her hair.
"Bloody hell!" Malcolm cursed with quiet intensity. He sprang from the blankets and gathered up their clothing, tossing her uniform to her.
As quickly as they could they pulled their clothes on. T'Pol was fully dressed, but Malcolm was still slipping his undershirt over his head when they heard a familiar voice call, "Hello! Anyone there?"
"Shit!" Malcolm whispered in the semi-darkness as he fumbled with the zipper of his coverall. He had it half-zipped when Commander Tucker came around the corner, flashlight in hand.
"Hey, there you are!" Tucker said excitedly. He swung his torch from T'Pol's face to Malcolm's, his smile faltering a little when neither of them greeted him.
"You guys ok?" Tucker asked uncertainly. He swung his flashlight around the campsite. The beam lingered for a brief second on the haphazardly entwined blankets.
Malcolm finally found his tongue. "Fine, thanks. Glad to see you, Commander." He finished zipping his coverall while T'Pol calmly picked up their blankets and stowed them in the emergency kit.
"Good to see you too, Malcolm. Sub-Commander." Tucker stuck his head outside of the shelter and called, "Captain, I found 'em. In here!"
T'Pol continued her task of cleaning up the campsite, dumping the water from the kettle and stowing it and the knife in the bag. When the captain and Ensign Mayweather entered a moment later, she straightened up to greet them.
"T'Pol! Malcolm! You're a sight for sore eyes," Archer cried when he saw them.
"I am pleased to see you as well, Captain," T'Pol intoned.
"Do you need any help packing up?"
"I believe I have everything. We were not able to rescue much from the shuttle before it sank."
Archer strolled around the shelter, shining his torch at the roof and walls. "This is quite a cozy little shelter you've got here. Something they teach at the Vulcan Science Academy?"
"That is Lieutenant Reed's handiwork," T'Pol replied blandly. Even in the faint light from the approaching sunrise, she could see Malcolm's ears redden.
"Well, I'd love to hear all about it later. As for right now, I bet you'd like to get back to the ship, huh?"
Malcolm caught himself peeking at T'Pol out of the corner of his eye. Apparently the word of the day was 'pretend.' Pretend nothing had happened. Well, if there's one thing the Reeds are masters at, it's pretending, Malcolm told himself wryly. "Certainly, Captain," he said, perhaps a little too brightly. "Will we be able to retrieve the shuttle?"
"I think we could manage it," Trip said eagerly, as the group began the short trek back to the waiting shuttlepod. "Maybe you could help me on that, Malcolm."
The group clambered one by one into the shuttle, the captain and Travis taking the front, Trip in the middle, and T'Pol in the back. Malcolm, who was the last one in, hesitated for a moment, then chose the seat next to T'Pol.
"First I'm going to have a hot shower, eat a meal that doesn't contain any fish or dried berries, and sleep for at least twenty-four hours. Then we'll see about raising the shuttle," Malcolm grinned at the prospect.
Trip turned in his seat to share Malcolm's grin. "I think you've earned it, pal," he said in an undertone. Malcolm felt his ears, which had never completely recovered from T'Pol's compliment, heat up again. He decided to ignore his body's reaction while he shot Trip a look of non-comprehending innocence.
The corner of Trip's lip quirked upward in a knowing smile, but he turned back around in his chair without saying anything more. Malcolm tried to catch T'Pol's eye without drawing the attention of the other occupants of the shuttle, but he was unsuccessful, as she stared straight ahead and ignored him completely. After a moment, he gave up the effort and looked away, carefully hiding his hurt feelings and trying to disregard the unsettled sensation in the pit of his stomach.
"So you caught some fish, huh, Malcolm?" the captain called from the front of the shuttle.
"Yes, Captain. Speedy little buggers they were, too."
"Good for you."
"What was it like going through a gravity well?" Travis asked.
Before Malcolm could respond, T'Pol spoke up. "It is not an experience I would like to repeat."
The captain and Trip both chuckled, and after a moment Malcolm let himself join in. He still watched T'Pol out of the corner of his eye, desperately searching her face for any expression, any hint of what she was feeling. For some reason he felt like his very existence depended on her response. But he was disappointed because her face gave no clue as to her emotional state, if she even had one at all. She did not speak again on the journey back to Enterprise.
When the shuttle reached the launch bay, Malcolm followed Trip out and turned back with his hand out to help T'Pol disembark. She ignored him, however, instead simply clambering out on her own as if Malcolm didn't even exist.
It felt to Malcolm like an eternity before they were cleared from decon, and even longer before the doctor gave them a clean bill of health. Throughout the examination Malcolm studiously avoided eye contact with T'Pol, which wasn't too difficult because she never looked in his direction.
As soon as the doctor cleared them, T'Pol turned to the captain. "I am anxious for a hot shower and sleep, Captain. Thank you for finding us." T'Pol nodded at the rest of the group. "Thank you, Commander, Doctor." Her eyes rested on Malcolm for a brief moment. "Lieutenant," she said coolly.
"Sub-Commander," was his automatic response. His stomach did a flip-flop when her expressionless eyes met his and then flicked away again.
T'Pol turned on her heel and strode calmly out of the room without a backward glance. Malcolm chewed on the inside of his lip while he watched her go.
"Well, Malcolm, it's good to have you back." Archer clapped Malcolm on the back, drawing his attention away from T'Pol's retreating form.
"Good to be back, Captain. I'm tired, too, so if you don't mind, I'll head to my quarters."
"That's fine, Malcolm. Dinner in the captain's mess tonight, say 1900?"
"I'll be there. Thank you, Captain." Malcolm nodded to Trip and Travis. "Thank you all."
Malcolm tried to stride out confidently, as T'Pol had, but discovered it was impossible. All he could think about was talking to T'Pol, but she had made it fairly clear that their relationship was back on a professional level only. It's for the best, he told himself firmly. But somehow that wasn't good enough now. He wanted more.
**
T'Pol sat cross-legged on the floor of her quarters with her meditation candle centered in front of her. It had been a very long day, the longest part being dinner in the captain's mess, with Commander Tucker asking all sorts of intrusive, annoying questions. T'Pol had had to employ emotion- suppression techniques several times to avoid allowing her irritation to show.
Now in the welcome quiet of her quarters, she focused her attention on the solitude and purity of the flame, shutting out all other thoughts. She felt herself sinking into the familiar rhythm of the meditation liturgy, her mind clearing effortlessly.
The ringing of her doorchime broke her concentration, which caused a slight pang of irritation. "Come," she said, with her eyes still fixed on the flame.
The door slid open and T'Pol looked up to see Lieutenant Reed standing awkwardly in the entrance. He made no move to enter the room.
"Enter."
"I'm disturbing you. I'll come back later." He started to turn to leave, but T'Pol called him back.
"Come in, Lieutenant. You are not disturbing me." T'Pol blew out the flame and rose gracefully to her feet.
"I-I wanted to talk to you." Reed said uncomfortably as he stepped into the room. The door slid shut behind him.
"So speak."
"What's-I mean, I want to know what you're thinking." He did not make eye contact.
"On what subject?"
Reed's eyes flicked up with obvious annoyance. "T'Pol, stop that. You know what I mean."
T'Pol took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had hoped to avoid this conversation altogether, but it appeared that would be impossible. "Lieutenant," she said seriously, "it would be inappropriate for us to pursue a romantic relationship."
Reed's eyes flitted away again. "You're right, of course."
"I acted--impulsively. I was overtired and I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgment. It will not happen again."
"No, of course not." Reed's tone was light, his voice quiet. "We wouldn't want to do anything out of clouded judgment, would we?"
T'Pol watched him curiously. He was reacting with much more restraint than she had expected. "It would be best if we pretended it did not happen at all."
"Pretending is my forte, Sub-Commander," Reed said flippantly. T'Pol tried desperately to read his face, to see past his off-hand comment to his true feelings. She had never been proficient at reading emotions, a skill which appeared to come naturally to most of the humans she met. She believed this ineptitude put her at a distinct disadvantage, particularly in situations such as the present.
She was able to see no hint of any underlying hurt on his face, so she decided to take his comments at face value. The only conclusion was that he had no desire for a relationship beyond the strictly professional. T'Pol was surprised by the almost physical ache that this realization evoked. She quickly suppressed the emotions before they betrayed her by showing up on her face.
"Did you wish to discuss anything else?" she asked finally.
"No, that's all. Good night, Sub-Commander." He smiled briefly, a tight smile that never quite reached his eyes, and left.
"Good night, Lieutenant," T'Pol said to the closed door.
**
Trip stood with a toolbox in each hand and surveyed the outside of Shuttlepod Two. With the gaping hole in the side, it looked like it had been ripped open by a pair of giant jaws. He whistled in surprise at the damage.
Trip looked back at Malcolm, who stood with arms folded and a deep frown on his face. "I'm amazed you survived that."
"Very nearly didn't," Reed grimaced. "If T'Pol hadn't dragged me out, you'd be looking at my corpse right now, sitting right there in the pilot's seat."
Trip shuddered. "I don't even wanna think about that. Well, I guess we've got our work cut out for us."
Together they pried open the hatch, which was stuck half-shut, and climbed into the pod. Trip immediately opened the access panels in the back while Malcolm headed toward the front.
"Can ya purge the injector manifold?" Trip said, setting aside the panel cover and flicking on his flashlight.
"I'm on it." Malcolm pressed the appropriate lever, but instead of the expected hiss of escaping air, they heard a trickle of water running.
"Damn. I was afraid of that. Mal, can you help me back here? The manifolds are all full of water."
A moment later Malcolm was by his side, and Trip handed him the flashlight. "Lay down here," he said, pointing. Malcolm complied. "Keep the light aimed at the manual release valve." He pointed at the spot inside the access port, and Malcolm obediently trained the light on it. Trip lay down on the floor next to him and stuck his head inside the port to reach the valve.
"So, uh, how are things going?"
"Fine," Malcolm answered flatly. Trip turned his head to look at him incredulously.
"That's it? Fine? Details, man!"
Malcolm very deliberately aimed the flashlight directly into Trip's eyes. "Details about what?"
Trip squinted to see Malcolm's face past the light. "You. T'Pol. One set of blankets."
"It was for warmth."
"Bullshit. Why were you putting your clothes on in the middle of the night?"
"It's none of your business, Commander."
"Don't give me that, Malcolm. I told you all about Kaitaama."
"A bit more than I wanted to know, to tell you truth."
Trip yanked the flashlight from Malcolm's hand. "Can you get me a hypospanner?" Malcolm sat up and crawled to the toolbox. When Trip stuck his hand out from under the panel, Malcolm slapped the correct tool into his palm. "At least tell me how long it's been going on."
"There's nothing to tell."
"Since before you were stranded together?" Trip used the hypospanner to open the manual release valve a half-turn, grunting with the effort. Nothing came out, but he could hear gurgling somewhere inside the pipes.
"Trip . . ."
He held the spanner out to Malcolm. "How about the next size up?" Malcolm took the tool from his hand and gave him a different one. "It must have been after we were stuck on Shuttlepod One, unless you're better at keeping a secret than I thought," Trip mused.
He heard Malcolm sigh in resignation. "It was one time, all right."
Trip pulled his head out from under the panel and stared at Malcolm in surprise. "No way!"
When Malcolm nodded mutely, Trip gave a low whistle and broke into a grin that was almost a leer. "You boinked the ice princess!"
"I wouldn't call it 'boinking', Trip."
"All right, 'buggered,' 'rogered,'" Trip rejoined with a terrible imitation of a British accent. "Whatever ya wanna call it. So . . . how was it?"
Malcolm stared at a spot on the bulkhead with a far-away look in his eyes. "It was the most incredible experience I have ever had in my life," he said softly.
Trip's eyebrows shot up at that. "Whoa."
Malcolm shook his head abruptly, as if trying to clear it. The far-away look disappeared and his eyes dropped. "Anyway, it's over."
"What? Whaddaya mean, over?"
"It would be inappropriate for us to pursue a romantic relationship."
"So she dumped ya, huh?" Trip said sympathetically. He stuck his arm up inside the panel and heaved on the valve with all his might. There was more gurgling, and then a rush of brackish, green-brown water flowed out of the pipes and out the open panel. Trip jumped to his feet, but not fast enough to avoid getting his uniform soaked.
"Ugh, gross."
"You think that's bad, try nearly drowning in it."
In disgust, Trip began packing up his tools. "I'm gonna have to get a team down here. This is a waste of time."
"I agree. If you don't mind, I've got work to do in the armory."
"You never answered my question."
"I wasn't aware you had asked one," Malcolm evaded.
"Did she dump ya?"
"There was no dumping involved. It was . . . mutual. Besides, dumping implies a relationship, and there wasn't one."
Trip clapped Malcolm on the shoulder. "Tough break, pal."
Malcolm shook off the hand. "I'm fine, really. Are we finished?"
"Yeah, I guess so. You wanna go get some lunch?"
"No thank you. I've got work to do."
"I'll take a rain check then. See ya."
Malcolm just nodded and headed out of the shuttle bay. Trip watched him go, shaking his head. Malcolm had certainly acted nonchalant about the whole breakup thing, but Trip had the feeling there was more to it than he was letting on.
To be continued, of course . . .