Disclaimer: see Chapter 1
A/N: Thank you to my reviewers. I enjoyed writing this but it is encouraging to know someone else is interested in reading it.
Chapter 3 - Midday Meetings
At the landing field, Enterprise's shuttlepod waited patiently for its passenger. A heat haze shivered over its hull as the yellow Ramerrum sun reached its zenith, standing high in a cloudless sky. The only activity to be seen in the scorching heat of midday was a few delicate multi-colored insects gliding on the thermals.
Captain Archer stood in the shade of a loosely woven awning poled out from the flight office and gazed about. The landscape was breathtaking. In the distance, grand snow-capped peaks stepped across the horizon. A shallow clear stream murmured nearby, cascading over a stony bed.
Soon he would be back on his ship and subject to its recycled air and relentless routine. He fully intended to make the most of this rare moment of quiet. Archer filled his lungs with the sweet scented air, perfumed by numerous types of flowers growing in exuberant abundance all around. Another successful first contact had been achieved. It had gone remarkably smoothly. Perhaps he was at last beginning to get this right, he thought with some satisfaction. There had been no unexpected cultural misunderstandings; no unreasonable demands; co-operative officials; and Chef had excelled himself.
He cast a critical eye over the shuttlepod a thirty meters away but could find no fault. The crew still kept it trim and shipshape despite all its adventures. Yes - his crew was the best too. All was right with the world. Well, his world and his universe. His smile broadened.
An alien appeared at his side. "Good day," he said politely.
"Good day," Archer replied, turning to face his new companion, who was also a visitor to this world, judging by his appearance. "I was admiring the landscape."
The alien nodded in agreement and swept his eyes over the scene. "Yes. It is most attractive, especially the insect life. Those flyers over there are found all over this continent. Have you been here in the evening? They 'sing' then. At least, that is what the natives call it, and it truly sounds like music. Cascades of sound." The alien gave a faraway smile and tipped his head to one side as if he were hearing the insect-song again, eyelids half-closed.
Archer grinned at his enthusiasm and gave a regretful shake of his head. "No - I missed that and I'll be leaving soon. That's a shame. I would have liked to hear them. Are you an exo-biologist, Mr...?"
The alien ceased his internal insect-song recital and gave Archer his full attention. With a small bow, he said, "My name is Simit. No, I'm not a professional in that field, but I enjoy learning as much as I can about the places I visit. For example, there are local legends about the flyers... how they encompass the souls of ancient spirits. I've been spending my last day gathering those stories together. It is a fascinating tradition."
"Ahh, so you are leaving today too?" asked Archer.
"I had intended to, but alas, the ship that was to have taken me has received a change of orders to go to a different destination - not to where I need to go. So I am stranded here, not that that is a great hardship," Simit said, spreading his arms wide. "This is an attractive world. At least, I find it so."
"Yes. I have to agree with you," said Archer with a grin, finding Simit's attitude amplifying his own immense good humor.
The alien evidently was not worried by the prospect of staying a little longer. He laughed, a deep throaty sound. "I don't suppose you have met my species before? There are few of us now. I'm a Hista. I journey around to learn about different places and peoples, and write about my experiences."
Archer noted Simit's deep blue silver-flecked hair, blue-tinged skin and golden eyes. An interesting combination, he thought. He replied, "No. I haven't come across any of your species. I'm Archer, by the way."
Simit held out his hand human-fashion and they shook.
"Where is your next port of call, Mr Simit?"
"The people here call it the Portagar system."
Archer waited for a translation. "That is a coincidence! We call that system Tashimar, and that is where we are headed next. We've just received the orders."
A thought struck Archer. This alien seemed to be an agreeable and entertaining companion, and it would be a good opportunity to find out more about a new species. Hoshi would get to learn a new language first hand. He made a decision. "Would you care to travel with us, Mr Simit?"
Simit's golden eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, Mr Archer, what a generous offer. Would your captain allow that?"
"I can guarantee he will," said Archer genially, "since I am the captain! If you can be ready soon, I'll wait for you. Otherwise, I'll send another shuttlepod down for you."
"I have everything to hand, already packed and can be ready in a few moments." Simit flashed Archer another broad smile and rushed off into the flight office to collect his baggage.
ooOOoo
"Hey, Malcolm! Hold up."
Trip half ran along the corridor to catch up. It was lunchtime and they were on their way to the mess hall from their respective departments. Malcolm slowed his speed. "Trip," he acknowledged, half turning towards him.
"Sorry you missed out last night," said Trip, drawing alongside and matching Malcolm's pace. He had been feeling guilty all morning but this was the first chance he'd had to speak to Malcolm.
"Oh?" Malcolm wasn't entirely paying attention. He was thinking about a glitch he had discovered during his latest systems checks. There appeared to be a conflict between two sub-routines, not in itself a cause for grave concern but...
"Yeah. You know, with Faffiola and all." Trip watched his friend for his reaction. He wasn't sure if Malcolm's apparent distraction was real or a calculated ploy.
"Ahh, yes. The delectable Faffiola," Malcolm considered, playfully repeating her name in a drawn out fashion. He smiled ruefully, "Well, you know what they say - two's company, three's a crowd."
"You're not mad are you?" Trip was concerned.
"Nah. It's okay. I was a little cross at the time but I understand." Malcolm flashed him a small smile in reassurance.
They walked on into the next corridor. Trip wondered whether to say something. With sudden abandon, he thought, well, he's never going to learn if I don't tell him...
With a silent prayer and a deep breath, Trip gathered his courage and said, "Malcolm..."
"Yes?"
"Um. You know, Faffiola was going to call her friend. Get her to come over to make a foursome."
"I don't remember her saying anything," said Malcolm, surprised. He was sure he would have remembered her saying something like that.
"Um. She did. After you left. But she said she decided not to because... because..." Trip coughed as he found the words stuck in his throat.
"Yes?" prompted Malcolm.
Trip swallowed, wishing now he hadn't started on this tack. He came to a halt, took another deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he found Malcolm's boring directly into them at an unnervingly close range.
"Yes, Trip. What?" Malcolm was intrigued.
Backing against the wall to regain his personal space, Trip replied in a rush, "She said, she felt like she was under suspicion for murder or something..."
Malcolm gaped soundlessly for a moment, then exclaimed, "What!? That's ridiculous! What made her say that!?"
"All those questions." Trip didn't blame her, actually. Malcolm had been pretty relentless. However, Malcolm clearly didn't see it like that.
"I was only showing an interest," said Malcolm, sounding a little hurt.
"It came across as an interrogation, Malcolm!"
"Did it?" Malcolm was genuinely puzzled. "It wasn't meant to."
"I know," Trip sighed. "That's why I thought I should say something."
"Oh." Malcolm stood for a moment, one cheek twitching as he processed this unexpected intelligence. Then he resumed his march to the mess hall, Trip in tow.
Trip gave his friend a sideways look as he drew alongside him. "You're not mad at me are you?"
"No. Thanks for telling me. I appreciate it." Malcolm's weak smile gave lie to his words. He bit his lower lip nervously. "Umm. I suppose I was too much in 'security mode'. I wanted to make sure we didn't have another nasty surprise, you know..." he looked around furtively. There was no one nearby but he still whispered the next words, "Like on Risa."
Trip jerked his head around too for eavesdroppers and exhaled explosively in relief when he saw they were safe.
Malcolm promised, "I'll try to behave more appropriately next time. No interrogations."
Nodding, Trip considered that perhaps they might have to have a reminder of this talk before their next jaunt, but he was pleased he had had the courage to say something. He remembered something else pertaining to the previous night.
"The Captain said you made a friend last night too. First contact of sorts." Trip looked at Malcolm expectantly.
"What?"
"Some guy you got talking to?"
Malcolm stopped dead. He could only be referring to that sleazeball, Simit. "How does the Captain know about that?" he demanded.
"I think they got chatting together in the shuttlepod on their way up. What, Malcolm?" Malcolm's face had turned to thunder.
"The Captain didn't say anything to me about a visitor!" Malcolm spat out, arms crossed firmly across his chest and looking everywhere except at Trip.
Trip was confused by Malcolm's strong reaction. He said soothingly, "Relax! They only came on board a short while ago. I don't suppose he has had the opportunity to talk to you yet."
Malcolm compressed his lips into a tight line. He scowled at Trip. "Relax, Commander?! How can I relax when the Captain invites alien visitors on board with absolutely no security presence called for!" He realized something else. "Also, we've now left orbit. Does that mean he is traveling with us, as a passenger?! With no security input invited?!"
Trip stopped himself rolling his eyes. He tried to placate his friend. "We get plenty of visitors. The Captain has to use his own judgment. Anyway, now you know!"
Malcolm was seething, and not doing too good a job of hiding it, at least in front of someone who knew how to read him. "Commander..." He petered out as he realized that whatever he said in his present state was likely to be highly insubordinate. He blinked and took a few deep breaths. "I'll comm the Captain and see..."
As if cued, the nearest comm panel chirruped into life Archer to Lieutenant Reed.
Throwing a venomous glare at Trip, Malcolm answered with a curt, "Reed."
Could you come to my Ready Room, Malcolm? We have a new passenger on board.
"On my way, Sir. Reed out."
Trip raised his eyebrows at Malcolm who returned the gesture. "Looks like I'll be skipping lunch, Commander." With that Malcolm executed a smart about turn and strode off down the corridor with a determined set to his shoulders.
Trip gave a sigh as he watched the retreating officer. He caught the words 'bloody' and 'taxi' floating down the corridor in his wake.
TBC