Special thanks to the web site below for having the sense of fun to archive the fictional Starfleet awards along with the real military honors:
United States Military Medals
Chapter 4 – Shall We Dance?
Trip could see lips moving but could hear no sound. Most of his gray matter that would normally be dedicated to other functions was rerouted to try and enable him to get another glimpse of T'Pol.
The sea green dress that she was wearing showed a considerable amount of Vulcan shoulder. It was of very simple design, hugging T'Pol's curves as it then flared at her hips to drape simply and elegantly to the floor. Lacking jewelry, a diaphanous material of striking hues of green and gold cinched at her throat with a simple gold brooch. The material flowed behind her in a way that reminded Trip of shimmering dragonfly's wings.
Stunned, Trip was sure that there was probably some Vulcan law prohibiting anyone of her race from looking that, well – Wow. If an outfit like that did not evoke some good old earthy emotions from the average Vulcan male, Trip mused, probably nothing else would.
Malcolm noted that his friend had taken a trip to somewhere that was light years away from the mess hall. Or maybe just across the room to where T'Pol was speaking with the Vulcan officers of the Shiran. Reed took charge of the situation, gently maneuvering Trip to a table. He was pretty sure that Trip did not hear him making apologies, explaining that the Commander was still a little off, the medications you know. Fortunately, once the other attendees blocked Trip's view of T'Pol, he seemed to snap out of his trance.
As they approached, Malcolm noticed that Hoshi was perched on the edge of the seat closest to the Captain. She looked up and saw them approaching the table. She stood to make the seat on the Captain's right available to the Commander. Trip gratefully accepted the offer and sat down.
Malcolm felt a little like a balloon with a slow, agonizing air leak. Hopefully, Reed thought, he wasn't squeaking like said balloon. Suddenly the room had gotten quite close. Malcolm swallowed slowly and tugged on his collar. Damned dress uniforms, Reed thought. They never give a man enough air when he needs it. Hoshi was breathtaking in an exotic gown similar to the one he had seen on the Subcommander. Her dress was in a deep royal purple, with a transparent over tunic shot through with silver and countless shades of purple and blue. The colors of the dress accented Hoshi's creamy, flawless complexion. She wore her hair up with delicate enamel combs that reminded Malcolm of graceful watercolor portraits of ancient Asian noblewomen.
Hoshi's self-consciousness got the better of her as she noted the lieutenant's unwavering stare. Looking down, she nervously smoothed out an invisible wrinkle in the bodice of the gown. "Our dresses were gifts from the Aviarians for our assistance on the planet. T'Pol didn't seem keen on wearing hers, but the Vulcan ambassador said that refusal might be considered a breach of etiquette."
Seeming to finally come out of his fog, Tucker replied. "God bless Vulcan Ambassadors everywhere for that gem of diplomatic wisdom." Trip looked around as if he finally had become aware of his sumptuous surroundings. "Whew, these folks really know how to put on a party."
The Aviarians had catered the entire event and spent the entire day decorating. Utilitarian mess hall walls were decorated with yards of the same iridescent fabrics that Hoshi and T'Pol were wearing. The tables were draped with similar material. Each table had a stunning centerpiece made of a metal so shiny that it looked like fluid quicksilver. The metal itself gave off a soft glow that illuminated the table. Throwing caution to the wind, Trip reached out and touched the luminous metal, finding it neither wet nor warm.
Dinner comprised several courses and thankfully the awards presentation was brief. Rook's little chest had puffed out so far, it had strained his buttons. Trip clapped the loudest and winked when the youngster beamed at him, fingering the medal pinned to his chest. The captain and bridge crew stood together as they accepted awards from the leader of the Aviarian World Council for their service on behalf of their home world. The captain surprised Trip and the rest of the crew alike when his dismissed the rest and asked the commander to remain.
"Standing in for the Secretary General of Star Fleet, it is with great honor that I present to you, Commander Charles Tucker of the Starship Enterprise, designation NX-01, Starfleet's Distinguished Service Medal for your act of bravery in the face of enemy fire and in being instrumental in preserving this ship and it's mission." Captain Archer placed the ribbon and medal around Trip's neck, shook his hand and motioned his officer to face the gathering. Trip turned to face the audience and the room burst into an uproar of applause. Normally not shy, the commander gratefully took his seat at the Captain's table as the socializing and festivities resumed.
Malcolm finally noticed that the music playing softly in the background was an entertaining mix of earth music from the past three centuries. A Chopin waltz was playing softly in the background. As if reading Malcolm's mind, Hoshi commented, "The Aviarian's are very keen on all forms of music. The captain said that they requested a selection of music that humans would appreciate for such a gathering, so I collected selections from our database." Her eyes fell on the as yet was unused dance floor. Malcolm knew a cue of cosmic proportions when he heard it.
"Hoshi, in the interest of diplomacy and interspecies communications, would you aid me in demonstrating a waltz or two for our hosts?" At the smile on Hoshi's face, Malcolm presented her his arm and the two walked off toward the dance floor as the opening strains of Waltz in A flat Major from Opus 34 resonated across the dance floor. As Hoshi placed one hand on the armory officer's shoulder and the other hand in his warm grasp, Malcolm only had two coherent thoughts. The first, a blessing to one Miss Tuttlewhite, for the tedious dance lessons in the front parlor so many years ago. The second, a silent thanks to the universe that the tune playing was one of Chopin's longer waltzes. He'd enjoy every second.
Watching the couple gracefully glide around the dance floor, Trip looked at T'Pol and then contemplated the brace on his left leg. He'd give anything to be able to take T'Pol out on the dance floor if it gave him the excuse to hold her in his arms again.
Trip was startled to see T'Pol make eye contact with him for the first time this evening, canting her head questioningly as if he had spoken his last thought out loud.
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Coming soon, Enterprise departs in search of evidence of those responsible for the thwarted attack on Aviaria and the deaths of the populations of two other planets…
