TITLE: Dear Annie ("Vox Sola")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Vox Sola"
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Good heavens, I'm almost overwhelmed by this episode. Where to start? How to fit it all in? Thanks for the beta go to Captain Average, the superhero with heart.
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
Wow! Wow! Did I mention wow? I suppose I did, but I'm still stunned by the last day or so. From tragedy to triumph in something like 24 hours. It felt like the day I defended my dissertation. Remember? I went from throwing up my breakfast in the department bathroom, to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town.
It was sort of like that. It was amazing. But first it was awful.
It all started with a first contact disaster. One for the record books, Trip said, shortest first contact ever. We managed to offend the Kreetassen by--oh, you're going to love this--eating. In public. (Apparently, they were offended by seeing us put food in our mouths. You're the food expert...are there any human cultures that treat eating as private? I can't think of any off-hand. But I digress...)
Anyway, the Kreetassens were so offended that they immediately took off, yelling the entire time. Unfortunately, we didn't find out why they were pissed until later, when they finally deigned to tell Travis about it. My translation showed they were saying, "you eat like you mate" but since we couldn't figure out what that meant, everyone figured the translation must be wrong.
I felt like such a failure. Nobody said they were blaming me, but I could tell they were thinking it. God, I was wondering why I'd ever agreed to take this job. Even T'Pol was making snide comments.
Malcolm and Travis tried to cheer me up and it was very charming, but not very helpful. So, while I was getting more and more depressed, everything went wonky. (Yes, *wonky* again. If you can come up with a better word, I'll use it.)
I kept hearing these noises in the walls and interference in the comm system. I thought I was going crazy.
Then, we got the call. There was a creature holed up in a cargo bay, and it had captured three crewmen, the Captain, and Trip. The minutes before Phlox was able to scan, and assure us they were still alive, were some of the longest of my life.
Malcolm wanted to go back in guns blazing (my god, but he was angry, at me, at T'Pol, at the universe!) but I argued with T'Pol. I knew, I just *knew*, once Phlox said there was a chance of sentience, that the frequency distortions I'd seen were language. And given a chance, we could speak to this thing, rather than shoot at it and take a chance with everyone's lives. But T'Pol and Malcolm just dismissed me like I was a naïve idiot.
I should have started working on those distortions immediately, no matter what they said. But I let my hurt feelings get in the way, and my crewmates suffered longer than they had to because I was determined to wait until T'Pol and Malcolm realized I was right. It'll take me a long while to forgive myself for that.
But after they tried and failed, they turned to me. This thing had a language, but it wasn't like anything I'd seen before. It was more like higher math than anything else, and I had to swallow my pride and ask T'Pol to help. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I just kept thinking of the five of them trapped, hanging, being absorbed by this creature.
At least T'Pol and I were able to clear the air between us. We'd been getting along so well, she'd been so helpful, then recently it was as if I couldn't do anything right. She's been hanging over my shoulder, checking up on me, I figured she didn't trust me anymore. I thought she believed I didn't belong out here. When I confronted her, she said she was holding me to a higher standard, because she believed I could meet that standard.
It warmed my heart, even as I worried that we wouldn't be able to figure out this language in time to save everyone. While T'Pol and I were doing that, Malcolm was building this force field thing that has Trip absolutely ecstatic with the possibilities. (I came to Sickbay to see him when it was all over and found the two of them buried in a stack of padds and speaking engineering--the one language I simply cannot learn.)
The solution to the problem ended up combining all our talents: my linguistic skills, T'Pol's math skills, and Malcolm's force field to keep us safe while we communicated with the alien. I guess we've all learned lessons about trusting each other's judgment, and the importance of teamwork.
So, we stood there behind Malcolm's force field and stared at this thing, this sentient life form, and I was terrified. It was the first time I'd actually *seen* the thing, and it was really scary, like a gigantic white spider web, or cocoons slowly suffocating our crewmates.
I jumped a little when the alien poked at the force field right in front of me, but I just kept reassuring myself that if Malcolm believed it would keep the alien out, I would trust him. And in return, they all trusted me to do my part.
And it worked! I sent the message, the modulated frequencies, to the alien, and it responded. The poor thing just wanted to go home. Can you believe it? I don't think it meant to hurt anyone, and when I figured out how to ask it to let everyone go, it did.
When the creature released them, my feet took me right to where Trip lay on the floor. He was covered in slime and mostly unconscious. I was stunned. I couldn't figure out what to do, so I just sat there like an idiot. When I looked up, I saw T'Pol a few feet away with Jon. They were just looking at each other (although I swear I saw her touching him out of the corner of my eye). I can't explain it, but it was...they just had such a connection at that moment.
The doctor kept all five of the newly-released crew in Sickbay for about two days. (Well, Crewman Kelly stayed a little longer because she was injured a bit worse than the others.) I went to see all of them a few times. I guess I feel a bit proprietary, in a "once you've saved a man's life, you're responsible for him" kind of way. I had to make sure they were okay, since I'd worked so hard to save them.
Jon was about three beats away from ordering Phlox to let him out of Sickbay the first time I visited, but he still looked so tired, you could actually see the lines of exhaustion on his face.
So, after sitting with them for awhile and reporting on the cleanup in the cargo bay, I brought out the big guns. I dropped by T'Pol's quarters and suggested that she go to Sickbay and convince the Captain to rest a little longer. It took a fair amount of weasel-wording and truth-shading, but it worked. Trip told me later that she showed up half an hour after I left, engaged Jon in conversation, and within minutes had him agreeing to stay put and listen to his doctor's orders.
Oh yes, Trip and I are friends again. I've missed him, you know, and I was tired of only speaking to him on work matters. I guess that means things are back to normal, or at least as normal as they get on Earth's first Warp 5 starship.
Love,
Hoshi
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Yes, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Vox Sola"
DISCLAIMER: Enterprise and all its crew belong to Paramount and many other entities with expensive lawyers. I am making no profit from this story.
NOTES: Good heavens, I'm almost overwhelmed by this episode. Where to start? How to fit it all in? Thanks for the beta go to Captain Average, the superhero with heart.
* * * * *
Dear Annie,
Wow! Wow! Did I mention wow? I suppose I did, but I'm still stunned by the last day or so. From tragedy to triumph in something like 24 hours. It felt like the day I defended my dissertation. Remember? I went from throwing up my breakfast in the department bathroom, to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town.
It was sort of like that. It was amazing. But first it was awful.
It all started with a first contact disaster. One for the record books, Trip said, shortest first contact ever. We managed to offend the Kreetassen by--oh, you're going to love this--eating. In public. (Apparently, they were offended by seeing us put food in our mouths. You're the food expert...are there any human cultures that treat eating as private? I can't think of any off-hand. But I digress...)
Anyway, the Kreetassens were so offended that they immediately took off, yelling the entire time. Unfortunately, we didn't find out why they were pissed until later, when they finally deigned to tell Travis about it. My translation showed they were saying, "you eat like you mate" but since we couldn't figure out what that meant, everyone figured the translation must be wrong.
I felt like such a failure. Nobody said they were blaming me, but I could tell they were thinking it. God, I was wondering why I'd ever agreed to take this job. Even T'Pol was making snide comments.
Malcolm and Travis tried to cheer me up and it was very charming, but not very helpful. So, while I was getting more and more depressed, everything went wonky. (Yes, *wonky* again. If you can come up with a better word, I'll use it.)
I kept hearing these noises in the walls and interference in the comm system. I thought I was going crazy.
Then, we got the call. There was a creature holed up in a cargo bay, and it had captured three crewmen, the Captain, and Trip. The minutes before Phlox was able to scan, and assure us they were still alive, were some of the longest of my life.
Malcolm wanted to go back in guns blazing (my god, but he was angry, at me, at T'Pol, at the universe!) but I argued with T'Pol. I knew, I just *knew*, once Phlox said there was a chance of sentience, that the frequency distortions I'd seen were language. And given a chance, we could speak to this thing, rather than shoot at it and take a chance with everyone's lives. But T'Pol and Malcolm just dismissed me like I was a naïve idiot.
I should have started working on those distortions immediately, no matter what they said. But I let my hurt feelings get in the way, and my crewmates suffered longer than they had to because I was determined to wait until T'Pol and Malcolm realized I was right. It'll take me a long while to forgive myself for that.
But after they tried and failed, they turned to me. This thing had a language, but it wasn't like anything I'd seen before. It was more like higher math than anything else, and I had to swallow my pride and ask T'Pol to help. That was one of the hardest things I've ever done, but I just kept thinking of the five of them trapped, hanging, being absorbed by this creature.
At least T'Pol and I were able to clear the air between us. We'd been getting along so well, she'd been so helpful, then recently it was as if I couldn't do anything right. She's been hanging over my shoulder, checking up on me, I figured she didn't trust me anymore. I thought she believed I didn't belong out here. When I confronted her, she said she was holding me to a higher standard, because she believed I could meet that standard.
It warmed my heart, even as I worried that we wouldn't be able to figure out this language in time to save everyone. While T'Pol and I were doing that, Malcolm was building this force field thing that has Trip absolutely ecstatic with the possibilities. (I came to Sickbay to see him when it was all over and found the two of them buried in a stack of padds and speaking engineering--the one language I simply cannot learn.)
The solution to the problem ended up combining all our talents: my linguistic skills, T'Pol's math skills, and Malcolm's force field to keep us safe while we communicated with the alien. I guess we've all learned lessons about trusting each other's judgment, and the importance of teamwork.
So, we stood there behind Malcolm's force field and stared at this thing, this sentient life form, and I was terrified. It was the first time I'd actually *seen* the thing, and it was really scary, like a gigantic white spider web, or cocoons slowly suffocating our crewmates.
I jumped a little when the alien poked at the force field right in front of me, but I just kept reassuring myself that if Malcolm believed it would keep the alien out, I would trust him. And in return, they all trusted me to do my part.
And it worked! I sent the message, the modulated frequencies, to the alien, and it responded. The poor thing just wanted to go home. Can you believe it? I don't think it meant to hurt anyone, and when I figured out how to ask it to let everyone go, it did.
When the creature released them, my feet took me right to where Trip lay on the floor. He was covered in slime and mostly unconscious. I was stunned. I couldn't figure out what to do, so I just sat there like an idiot. When I looked up, I saw T'Pol a few feet away with Jon. They were just looking at each other (although I swear I saw her touching him out of the corner of my eye). I can't explain it, but it was...they just had such a connection at that moment.
The doctor kept all five of the newly-released crew in Sickbay for about two days. (Well, Crewman Kelly stayed a little longer because she was injured a bit worse than the others.) I went to see all of them a few times. I guess I feel a bit proprietary, in a "once you've saved a man's life, you're responsible for him" kind of way. I had to make sure they were okay, since I'd worked so hard to save them.
Jon was about three beats away from ordering Phlox to let him out of Sickbay the first time I visited, but he still looked so tired, you could actually see the lines of exhaustion on his face.
So, after sitting with them for awhile and reporting on the cleanup in the cargo bay, I brought out the big guns. I dropped by T'Pol's quarters and suggested that she go to Sickbay and convince the Captain to rest a little longer. It took a fair amount of weasel-wording and truth-shading, but it worked. Trip told me later that she showed up half an hour after I left, engaged Jon in conversation, and within minutes had him agreeing to stay put and listen to his doctor's orders.
Oh yes, Trip and I are friends again. I've missed him, you know, and I was tired of only speaking to him on work matters. I guess that means things are back to normal, or at least as normal as they get on Earth's first Warp 5 starship.
Love,
Hoshi