Chapter 5

"It roughly translates to 'snowflake', Captain. Why do you ask?"
"Just curious," he smiled, then he looked up as he heard the turbolift.
Travis stepped out with a small, white board and a big, wide grin. He walked
up to Hoshi and the captain.
"I brought you a little souvenir from the surface!" he beamed.
Hoshi lit up and stood, staring at the flat board.
"What is it?" she chirped.
Travis turned to the captain.
"I- It's ok, sir," he said. "I cleared it with Phlox, first."
Archer peeked, then he motioned.
"Go right ahead," he smiled.
Travis inflated himself and held his breath towards the expectant Hoshi.
"Well?" she said, whipping the air.
He flipped the board, revealing a dozen or so samples, all neatly pinned.
Hoshi's face fell flat.
"That's it?" she huffed. "Bugs?"
"Give 'em a chance," Archer nudged. "Move 'em around a bit, Travis."
Mayweather recovered somewhat and stood beside Hoshi. He moved the
board beneath the light, so that they flashed and reflected their colors.
"Oh!" Hoshi exclaimed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. "You mean...all
those? The swirls? They were these things?"
"Millions of them," Archer said. "Looked like a... I don't know what it looked
like. It was amazing."
She took the board from Travis and waved it back and forth in delight, then
she turned towards the captain.
"I can go tomorrow?" she whined, tilting her head. "Can't I?"
"Sure," he winked.
Archer ambled away as Travis told the tale. He sat down in his chair, then
he glanced around the room and puzzled.
"Where's Lieutenant Reed?"
"...and then, they started hatching! It sounded like... Have you ever played
with bubble wrap?"
"Bubble wrap?"
"Hoshi!"
"Hmm?" she said. "I mean, yes, sir?"
"Lieutenant Reed?"
"Oh!" she said. "He's helping Commander Tucker in engineering."
"What's going on in engineering?"
"The commander ran into some...trouble," she said.
"What kind of trouble?"
"He'd be better at explaining it than I would, sir."
He eyed her for a moment then nodded and pressed the button.
"Archer to Trip."
After a brief pause, Malcolm answered.
"This is Lieutenant Reed, sir," he said. "Commander Tucker is a bit...indisposed."
"What's going on down there, Lieutenant?"
"The commander was cleaning out the plasma conduits," Malcolm said, "and
he ran into some...trouble."
"So I've heard," Archer gruffed. "What kind of trouble?"
Suddenly, T'Pol entered and didn't quite run to her station. She sat down
without looking at anyone and covered herself with her work.
"It's difficult to explain, sir," Malcolm said.
"Try."
After a long pause, in which Archer stood up and paced full-circle around his
chair, Malcolm's voice again rang out.
"The commander respectfully requests," he said, "that we install, er, an auto-
mated duct cleaning system."
"I'll see what I can do," Archer fumed. "Put him on."
"Just a moment, sir, here he comes."
The captain sat back down and squirmed. Finally, the comm beeped.
"This is Trip," Tucker said, out of breath.
"What's going on down there, Trip?" Archer demanded. "And you'd better
not say you just 'ran into some trouble'."
There was a long pause, then Trip came on and twanged off a lengthy list of
problems that resulted from his attempts to clean the plasma conduits, using such
terms as "over-loaded' and "mis-aligned". He continued, drawling in exasperation,
until he finally finished his discourse by referencing the lights of a Christmas tree,
the physics of falling dominoes, and the relative heat capacity of a specific Mexican
pepper.
"We sure could use a hand down here, Cap'ain," he sighed. "What's T'Pol
doin'?"
T'Pol perked, but she did not look up.
"I'll see if she's...busy," Archer said. "Keep me posted."
"Aye, aye, Cap'ain."
Archer turned to his science officer.
"T'Pol?"
She typed something and then turned her back, moving to the opposite console.
"T'Pol!"
"I'm sorry, Captain?" she said, slowly parting from her work. She looked at
him with a question mark.
"Trip needs some help in engineering."
"What seems to be the matter?"
"He...ran into some...trouble," Archer stumbled.
She offered him another question mark.
"If you get a chance," he sighed. "I'm sure he'd appreciate a hand."
She seemed to regard the request with suspicion, and then she underscored
the importance of her butterfly data. The captain acknowledged her bug study, but
he persisted, stressing the greater importance of a functioning warp core. She
eventually gave in and headed for the turbo lift.


A few minutes later, the engineering doors opened, and Malcolm looked up.
He quickly turned around and laughed quietly at his shoes. The disheveled Trip
glanced up at him, then down at his shoes, then over to the entrance, at which point,
he slumped and spoke to his micro-spanner.
"Why couldn't you a'wore that this mornin'?" he grumbled.
T'Pol paused in the door way. She leaned in slightly and glanced left and right,
then she took a moderately deep breath and walked towards the two men.
"Did you say something, Commander?" she asked.
Trip gave her a sideways glance.
"Yeah, I said, 'Why couldn't you take me with you this mornin'?"
"The captain said that you had...other plans," T'Pol blinked. "Lieutenant."
Malcolm nodded.
"Sub-commander."
Trip wiped the grease from his micro-spanner with a filthy rag, his head back
at an odd angle, mouth half-open.
"Well, did ya'll have fun down there today?" he accused.
"The crew seemed to...enjoy themselves," she said flatly. "If that is what you
mean."
"Yeah?" he jawed, "and how 'bout you?"
"I was able to conduct some...interesting research," she admitted.
Trip tossed the rag onto the pile and wiped the sweat from his brow.
"Well, you like to conduct 'interesting research', don't ya?" he asked.
"Yes?"
"Then you had fun!"
"Vulcans do not have fun," she said.
Trip shook his head, then he glared.
"What are you laughing at?" he snapped, turning towards Malcolm.
"Nothing, sir," Malcolm smirked. "Nothing at all."
"Well, why don't you quit standin' around here and go help somebody, then?"
he groused. "Before Cap'ain comes down here and starts askin' more questions!"
"Who do you want me to help?" Malcolm stifled.
"Take yer pick!"
Malcolm winced and leaned back a bit, then he quickly nodded his head
and wandered off to the other side of engineering. Suddenly, from the opposite
direction, there was a small explosion, followed shortly by a shower of sparks
and a menacing electrical sound.
"Oh, Lord," Trip sighed.
He leaned over the rail and looked at the mess.
"Ramirez!" he hollered.
"I'm on it, sir!"
Trip shook his head and stared off limply for a moment. Finally, T'Pol spoke.
"How may I assist you, Commander?" she asked politely.
Trip returned to his body and looked at her, then he looked all around and
waved his arms in the air, before returning his eyes to T'Pol. She stared at him,
blankly.
Finally, he calmed down a bit and sighed again. He scratched his eyebrow
with a grimy finger and peeked up at her.
"How's about you help me realign these anti-matter injectors?" he cooled.
She nodded.
He wearily followed her around the corner and down the stairs. They each
took positions in front of different stations, and Trip started pushing some buttons.
T'Pol waited for his cue.
"What're you readin'?"
"Eighty-nine percent," she said.
"Ok, hold on a minute..."
Trip stepped to the next station and pushed some more buttons, then he
stepped back.
"So how was it down there today?" he asked. "Try five microns."
She made the adjustment.
"It was...memorable," she said. "Ninety-one percent."
Trip stepped and pushed.
"So? What happened?"
"We landed by a lake that was covered with insect larvae...pupae, rather.
They appeared to...hatch simultaneously, after which they all flew up several
hundred meters. A few minutes later, they died and fell back to the lake."
"They died?"
"The doctor seems to think that this was their...mating cycle," she browed.
"He believes that it only occurs once every ten years."
"Doesn't sound like much of a honeymoon," Trip mumbled. "Five more microns..."
She made the adjustment.
"You ever hear of anything like that before?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "though not to this extreme. There is a similar species on your
planet. I believe the doctor called them, 'mayflies'."
Trip moved to a third station and pushed, then he glanced at T'Pol.
"Ninety-three percent," she said.
Trip moved back.
"I know all about mayflies," he said. "We used to fish with 'em. We'd just
pluck 'em off the side of the dock, hook 'em, and throw 'em in. Bluegill loved 'em.
Catfish didn't seem too interested, though... Gimme three more."
She made the adjustment.
"Ninety-six percent."
Trip moved to a fourth station, pushed, and moved back.
"Well, was it pretty?" he asked.
She rolled her eyes away.
"It was visually...appealing," she said carefully.
"So it was pretty," he insisted. "How 'bout now?"
She looked at Trip, then re-focused on the panel.
"I am reading ninety-eight percent efficiency."
"Back it off a half."
She made the adjustment.
"It's movie night tonight," Trip said, peeking up. "You comin'?"
"I'm afraid not," said T'Pol. "I want to finish my analysis of today's samples."
"It's a good one..." he pushed.
"That's what you say about all of them," she said flatly. "Ninety-eight-point-
four."
"Yeah, well, this one's extra-good," he coaxed. "'Suspicious.' Last movie by
Mary Kate Olsen..."
Trip stepped, pushed, stepped, pushed, stepped, pushed, then returned.
"Perhaps another time," she said. "Ninety-eight-point-eight."
T'Pol backed away from the console and crossed her arms. Trip made a final
adjustment and walked up beside her.
"It won an Academy award for best picture," he mugged.
She glared.
"Suit yourself," he said, and he wiped his grimy brow with his grimy sleeve.
"Do you require...any further assistance?"
"Nope. That'll do it," he said. "Thanks. I guess I'll see you at dinner."
"I will be dining in my quarters tonight. I have already informed the captain."
Trip looked at her for a moment; T'Pol leaned a few microns away.
"Somethin' botherin' you?" he asked.
"I simply want to finish analyzing the data before tomorrow's survey," she
explained patiently.
"Well, you know what they say..."
She raised a brow.
"All work and no play makes T'Jill a dull Vulcan..."
"To the contrary," T'Pol fired back, flatly. "I find Ambassador T'Jill's work to
be both informative and insightful."
Trip blinked.
"I'll, uhhhh, see ya at breakfast tomorrow, then," he stammered.
He watched her walk away and shook his head. A few moments later, there
was another minor explosion, followed by an annoying alarm. Trip ran to the other
side of the engine and looked at the mess. He threw his hands in the air and yelled.
"Ramirez!"
"I'm on it, sir!"