TITLE: Dear Annie ("Minefield")
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Minefield."
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: Thanks to Captain Average for taking a look at this for me, and here's hoping he decides to write T'Pol's letters home :)
Dear Annie:
I've got a new goal: make it through a few days without someone (or several someones) ending up in Sickbay. This time it wasn't just Malcolm, but me as well. I'm okay now, although my head still feels like it's got a mariachi band practicing a new number.
Phlox said it was a pretty severe concussion and...oh, I should tell you how I got it, shouldn't I? Right. I can't tell if I'm confused from the concussion or the meds in my system.
Well, we found an uninhabited Minshara class planet and the Captain thought a little light exploration might be just the ticket. It was a great idea--except for the pesky minefield. The first mine we hit blew a big chunk out of the port side of the ship, and I'm incredibly thankful that nobody died. Trip tells me his momma would say it's because "the Lord watches over fools and children."
That's when I got my concussion, getting thrown out of my seat onto the deck.
Seatbelts. That's what we really need around here, seatbelts. You know I've been a big fan of them since the first time Mark drove us anywhere. (Which reminds me, I'm glad he's finally got a tenure-track position. Now maybe they can assign him an assistant to keep him out of trouble.)
In any case, the next thing I remember is waking up in Sickbay, hearing the Captain's voice over the comm asking if I were well enough to go back to the bridge. I was trying to get back to my station when Phlox stopped me. I just lay there and worried about what was going on. Every time a comm beeped or the ship creaked, I wondered if I should be on the bridge trying to translate whatever they needed me for.
After my second attempt to leave, Phlox finally suggested they bring the comm logs down to me so I could work on them. I think he realized I was about to implode. It was probably the most surreal experience of my professional career: sitting on a cot in Sickbay with a handheld UT and a speaker in my ear because Phlox wouldn't even let me sit at a computer. I'm surprised he even let me sit upright! I must have looked half-dead but there were T'Pol and Trip hanging on my every word.
Fortunately, it wasn't an incredibly difficult language and once I made a few more adjustments, the UT was able to kick in and do the rest. In fact, I'm surprised it went so easily. It went so well, I suspect these Romulans must have a language related to one of the others in the UT. Well, it's nice to know I have a little project to keep me busy in my downtime.
But I digress. (And rather severely, I might add. I'm definitely going to have to ask the Doctor what he gave me.)
The one advantage to being half-conscious in Sickbay is that I wasn't on the bridge when we nearly lost Malcolm and the Captain.
I'm getting tired of writing things like that. Maybe I'll stop writing you letters. Once every few weeks just imagine me saying "Trip nearly died today" or "the Captain was kidnapped yesterday." You'll probably be right.
I suppose I shouldn't be making light of this, but I just don't know how to handle the fact that the Captain nearly had to blow up Malcolm along with a mine and a chunk of hull plating. A little piece of me is glad I wasn't on the bridge when Malcolm said the mine had attached itself to the hull through his leg.
I can't imagine what it would feel like to be trapped under a mine. And the Captain had to go up there himself and help Malcolm defuse the damn thing, all because he felt guilty over putting him in danger. No, nobody told me that, but I've known Jon Archer a long time, and some things are easy to guess. Of course, I don't know what I wanted him to do...send Trip? If there's anyone I want to lose less than Malcolm or the Captain, it's Trip. No, nothing has happened between us. Just these drugs loosening my brain a bit. Ignore me, erase that, forget I said it. No relationships for Hoshi. Only casual sex on shore leave.
Back to Malcolm and the Captain defusing a mine. While they were defusing, the Romulans showed up and told us to leave immediately and they weren't especially interested in no for an answer. Apparently, they could tell we were ready for Plan B, which was to detach the hull plating with mine and Malcolm in tow. But you must say one thing for our Captain: *nobody* can outstubborn him, not the Vulcans, not Trip or Malcolm, and certainly not any ol' Romulans.
So, T'Pol stalled long enough for the Captain to come up with an amazingly crazy plan. In fact, it shouldn't have worked at all, and I'm going to have to get someone with a better physics background than mine to figure out why it did. But they detached the hull plating. Then, the Captain used the time between the mine re-arming itself and the actual explosion to cut Malcolm loose, and the two of them jumped off into space with just a couple of shuttlepod doors between them and the explosion. I wonder why they didn't just transport off? And why weren't they crushed? Maybe the EV suits have inertial dampeners and someone just forgot to tell me. Well, as long as they're safe, I suppose I won't quibble.
Hmm, things are getting a little fuzzy again, so it must be time for me to get some rest before Phlox barges into my quarters and give me more drugs. I hope I wasn't too incoherent, but I just had to talk to you. Remember when you broke your arm and they gave you that muscle relaxant? I bet that's what I sound like. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite.
Did I just say that? I'm telling Phlox in the morning to put in my chart to never give me these meds again.
Love,
Hoshi
AUTHOR: Mara Greengrass
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL: fishfolk@ix.netcom.com. Feedback is better than chocolate.
PERMISSION TO ARCHIVE: Linguistics Database, others, just let me know.
CATEGORY: Gen
RATINGS/WARNINGS: G
SUMMARY: Hoshi writes home after the events of "Minefield."
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: Thanks to Captain Average for taking a look at this for me, and here's hoping he decides to write T'Pol's letters home :)
Dear Annie:
I've got a new goal: make it through a few days without someone (or several someones) ending up in Sickbay. This time it wasn't just Malcolm, but me as well. I'm okay now, although my head still feels like it's got a mariachi band practicing a new number.
Phlox said it was a pretty severe concussion and...oh, I should tell you how I got it, shouldn't I? Right. I can't tell if I'm confused from the concussion or the meds in my system.
Well, we found an uninhabited Minshara class planet and the Captain thought a little light exploration might be just the ticket. It was a great idea--except for the pesky minefield. The first mine we hit blew a big chunk out of the port side of the ship, and I'm incredibly thankful that nobody died. Trip tells me his momma would say it's because "the Lord watches over fools and children."
That's when I got my concussion, getting thrown out of my seat onto the deck.
Seatbelts. That's what we really need around here, seatbelts. You know I've been a big fan of them since the first time Mark drove us anywhere. (Which reminds me, I'm glad he's finally got a tenure-track position. Now maybe they can assign him an assistant to keep him out of trouble.)
In any case, the next thing I remember is waking up in Sickbay, hearing the Captain's voice over the comm asking if I were well enough to go back to the bridge. I was trying to get back to my station when Phlox stopped me. I just lay there and worried about what was going on. Every time a comm beeped or the ship creaked, I wondered if I should be on the bridge trying to translate whatever they needed me for.
After my second attempt to leave, Phlox finally suggested they bring the comm logs down to me so I could work on them. I think he realized I was about to implode. It was probably the most surreal experience of my professional career: sitting on a cot in Sickbay with a handheld UT and a speaker in my ear because Phlox wouldn't even let me sit at a computer. I'm surprised he even let me sit upright! I must have looked half-dead but there were T'Pol and Trip hanging on my every word.
Fortunately, it wasn't an incredibly difficult language and once I made a few more adjustments, the UT was able to kick in and do the rest. In fact, I'm surprised it went so easily. It went so well, I suspect these Romulans must have a language related to one of the others in the UT. Well, it's nice to know I have a little project to keep me busy in my downtime.
But I digress. (And rather severely, I might add. I'm definitely going to have to ask the Doctor what he gave me.)
The one advantage to being half-conscious in Sickbay is that I wasn't on the bridge when we nearly lost Malcolm and the Captain.
I'm getting tired of writing things like that. Maybe I'll stop writing you letters. Once every few weeks just imagine me saying "Trip nearly died today" or "the Captain was kidnapped yesterday." You'll probably be right.
I suppose I shouldn't be making light of this, but I just don't know how to handle the fact that the Captain nearly had to blow up Malcolm along with a mine and a chunk of hull plating. A little piece of me is glad I wasn't on the bridge when Malcolm said the mine had attached itself to the hull through his leg.
I can't imagine what it would feel like to be trapped under a mine. And the Captain had to go up there himself and help Malcolm defuse the damn thing, all because he felt guilty over putting him in danger. No, nobody told me that, but I've known Jon Archer a long time, and some things are easy to guess. Of course, I don't know what I wanted him to do...send Trip? If there's anyone I want to lose less than Malcolm or the Captain, it's Trip. No, nothing has happened between us. Just these drugs loosening my brain a bit. Ignore me, erase that, forget I said it. No relationships for Hoshi. Only casual sex on shore leave.
Back to Malcolm and the Captain defusing a mine. While they were defusing, the Romulans showed up and told us to leave immediately and they weren't especially interested in no for an answer. Apparently, they could tell we were ready for Plan B, which was to detach the hull plating with mine and Malcolm in tow. But you must say one thing for our Captain: *nobody* can outstubborn him, not the Vulcans, not Trip or Malcolm, and certainly not any ol' Romulans.
So, T'Pol stalled long enough for the Captain to come up with an amazingly crazy plan. In fact, it shouldn't have worked at all, and I'm going to have to get someone with a better physics background than mine to figure out why it did. But they detached the hull plating. Then, the Captain used the time between the mine re-arming itself and the actual explosion to cut Malcolm loose, and the two of them jumped off into space with just a couple of shuttlepod doors between them and the explosion. I wonder why they didn't just transport off? And why weren't they crushed? Maybe the EV suits have inertial dampeners and someone just forgot to tell me. Well, as long as they're safe, I suppose I won't quibble.
Hmm, things are getting a little fuzzy again, so it must be time for me to get some rest before Phlox barges into my quarters and give me more drugs. I hope I wasn't too incoherent, but I just had to talk to you. Remember when you broke your arm and they gave you that muscle relaxant? I bet that's what I sound like. Good night, sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite.
Did I just say that? I'm telling Phlox in the morning to put in my chart to never give me these meds again.
Love,
Hoshi