by Ragua
Disclaimer: Paramount owns all. I'm just borrowing.
A/N: All Vulcan terminology courtesy of the Vulcan Language Institute
Thanks to gizzi1213 for being my beta.
Chapter 13
Jonathan Archer ground his teeth in frustration. By all rights, Enterprise should be warping the hell out of this system. Instead, they were waiting for two of the ship's senior officers who had taken it into their heads to get creative during an away mission without informing their captain.
Despite his irritation, Archer couldn't blame them for their actions. He doubted that he could have left any crew member behind, let alone Trip. Still, T'Pol should have given him some indication as to just what was going on down there!
The captain began to stalk the bridge, earning a raised eyebrow from Captain Kovek, who was present as a courtesy. Archer grimaced at the silent critique of his emotional response to the tension. Hoshi cast him a sympathetic look.
Well, the captain decided, we may all die because of this, but I'll be damned if I go to my grave wondering what the hell this soap opera was all about.
Archer sidled up to the Communications Officer and tested his theory.
"How bad is he?" he asked softly.
"Sir?" Hoshi looked baffled. He'd have to get more specific.
"Trip," the captain clarified. "How bad is he at Vulcan?"
The exasperated look that came over the linguist's face told the captain that he had scored a direct hit. She glanced left and right before responding. "Imagine the worst student you've ever encountered," she replied in disgust. Archer nodded sympathetically, but Hoshi wasn't finished. "And then multiply it by a factor of ten!"
Before the captain could laugh, Kras calmly alerted him that Shuttlepod One had just docked. Archer immediately gave the order to vacate the Modinok system.
"Travis? Warp 5. Now."
The helmsman instantly complied, and Enterprise's hasty retreat led to a moment of relieved silence on the bridge.
Thank God they got back here alive, Archer thought . I'm going to kill them.
Aloud, he addressed his Vulcan counterpart calmly. "Would you like to accompany me to meet our respective away teams, Captain?"
Kovek had explained to Archer who T'Run and Solkar were. Knowing who his First Officer had been speaking about didn't make the captain any happier. She should have been the one to inform him!
With a grim expression, Archer gestured for Kovek to proceed him into the turbo lift. Before entering himself, he sent one general glare around the bridge before securing the change of command.
"Lieutenant, you have the bridge," he snapped as the lift doors shut.
Hoshi sat motionless at the Communications board for a moment. I have the bridge, she acknowledged incredulously. I have the bridge!
She was quite proud that she resisted the urge to leap to her feat, pump her arms up and down, and scream "YES!!!" Instead, she strode casually from her station to a point a meter or so behind Travis, hands professionally clasped behind her back, expression inscrutable.
"They are so in trouble," Ensign Burrows, contemplating the fate of the senior officers, murmured from her spot at Tactical. In full command mode, Hoshi gave her a quelling look, and Burrows hastily went back to scanning the Modinok system for any sign of pursuit.
Travis turned his head slightly, barely controlling a grin. "So," he whispered slowly, raising his eyebrows. "You gonna sit in the chair?"
Hoshi eyed him haughtily, then glanced over her shoulder slightly, where the captain's chair loomed like a medieval throne.
Yes, she decided. Yes, I am.
Hmmmm, she thought as she ensconced herself in the roomy seat. I like it!
The captain's plan to read his senior officers the riot act fizzled almost immediately upon his arrival at the docking bay. The sight of his senior officers hovering like anxious mothers as Phlox and a medic tended their injured comrade melted his resolve.
Trip certainly was out of it. If Archer didn't know any better, he'd say the engineer was three sheets to the wind. Or four. Or five.
At first, Archer thought the engineer had recognized his captain. That is, until Trip commented, "I liked you better with the mustache." He continued to mumble incoherently from the floor of the docking bay while T'Pol introduced the Vulcan away team and explained Commander Tucker's injuries.
Finally Kovek departed with his officers, and Phlox carted his patient off to sickbay. Archer, bemused, stared after the disappearing stretcher for a moment, then turned to T'Pol and Malcolm for some kind of explanation. They shared a look with each other, then Malcolm looked away sheepishly, while T'Pol met the captain's gaze calmly, eyebrow slightly raised.
"I take it you've never worn a mustache, Captain?" Reed nervously filled the silence.
Archer shook his head. "Not since I was a junior in high school trying to impress a senior girl." He reminisced a moment, smiling ruefully. "She didn't like me with or without it."
The captain looked back up at his recalcitrant officers and sighed. "I had intended to dress you both down for the incredibly piss-poor communication skills you displayed while on Modinok," he began. "But I'm too damned tired. I'll do it tomorrow." He gave them a resigned look. "Get some food and rest. I'll expect you at your stations in two hours."
As he watched his Science and Armory Officer depart, he shook his head in weary amusement and scrubbed his hand roughly over his face.
Maybe when all this is over, I will grow a mustache. Archer mused.
Malcolm Reed threw himself into his duties with a vengeance. He refused to stand down until it was certain that the aliens—whoever they were—were not going to pursue Enterprise. Even then, he could not remain idle. Inactivity gave him too much time to think, and thinking was decidedly unpleasant at the moment.
More than anything, he wanted to speak to Trip—to apologize, but Phlox was allowing no visitors. Apparently the alien security device had disrupted the normal neurological activity in the engineer's brain, and the doctor required some time to sort it out. And until it was sorted out, Trip was to be kept under sedation.
Maybe this is a good thing, Reed thought as he recalibrated the phase cannons for the twelfth time. I can use the time to plan out my apology.
Sub-Commander T'Pol was beginning to wonder if there was some truth to the ancient human belief of karma. Since her return to Enterprise, it seemed that not a minute went by in which she was not reminded—painfully—of her hasty and erroneous judgment of Commander Tucker.
Upon hearing of the Chief Engineer's creative plan to disable the Mahdini power relays from Kras, most of the Vulcans from the Karil expressed admiration and a desire to meet the clever human. T'Run and Solkar's account of Mr. Tucker's self-sacrifice, not to mention his knowledge of both Vulcan and the teachings of Surak, created another stir. Suddenly, T'Pol could not go anywhere on Enterprise without encountering a member of her species who wished to learn more about "the honorable Commander Tucker."
Fate seemed to delight in mocking her with her mistake. No matter how she tried to immerse herself in her duties, around every corner was another Vulcan who wished to discuss the admirable qualities of a certain human.
Admirable qualities that she had completely ignored.
Enterprise's Chief Engineer never believed he would be glad to wake in sickbay. But then, he also never figured that a simple thing like lack of nausea could make him so inordinately happy. Phlox had obviously worked some of his magic. Trip just hoped that it hadn't involved any of the doctor's numerous slimy pets.
How long had he been here? He sifted through his most recent memories, but he knew that he couldn't really trust them. T'Luki and Sonok figured prominently in the fractured visions, but they weren't real people. He also had a distinct memory of his Uncle Jimmy, who had—for some unknown reason—shaved of the glorious handlebar mustache that he'd been cultivating for as long as Trip could remember. The only constant in any of his rambling memories was a beautiful face that hovered over him, concern obvious in her eyes.
T'hai'la, the word drifted through his tired brain.
"Commander!" Dr. Phlox had just noticed his patient's conscious state and was delighted. "It's good to see you awake! Your numerous admirers will be most pleased!"
"Admirers?" Trip asked, confused. Maybe he was still under the effects of the alien security pulse?
"Indeed," Phlox asserted as he readjusted some sort of medical apparatus just above his patient's right temple. "Apparently Kras, Solkar, and T'Run have been singing your praises to their crewmembers. Now every Vulcan on the ship wants to meet you!"
"Every Vulcan?" the puzzled engineer echoed again, unaware that the crew of the Karil had been evacuated to Enterprise.
Phlox jovially misinterpreted the question. "Oh, most definitely! And some more than others," he added with a hint of mischief as he adjusted another device above Trip's left temple. "Sub-Commander T'Pol has taken to lurking about like a vampire, inquiring after your condition. I've had to chase her off numerous times."
T'Pol was anxious to see him! That was good news. But before Trip could ask anymore questions, he felt the pinch of a hypospray on his neck.
"Visitors will, of course, have to wait," Phlox said apologetically. "We need to stabilize the disruption to your neurotransmitters first!"
Damn, Trip thought as he slipped back into unconsciousness. One final thought assailed him as he slipped into the pleasant darkness.
Who the hell were Solkar and T'Run?
T'Run approached Enterprise's Vulcan First Officer in the humans' eating area, known as the Mess Hall. She was curious about the etymology of the phrase, because despite the distinct odor of the numerous humans present, the area was quite tidy.
"Sub-Commander T'Pol, may I join you?" she asked.
"That would be agreeable," T'Pol responded, even though she had made an earnest effort so far to avoid the older woman and her disconcerting questions.
The two Vulcans ate their meal in the traditional silence of their people for several moments. Then T'Run spoke. "I have observed that humans use mealtime as an opportunity to discuss various topics," she stated, obviously to demonstrate her intention of following the local custom.
T'Pol nodded, bracing herself for whatever might follow.
The conversation started out innocuously enough. "As a scientist, you must find it fascinating to interact with an alien culture on a daily basis," T'Run began. "In just the short time we have been on the human ship, I have gathered enough data for several studies."
"I would advise exercising caution in your methods of gathering data," T'Pol suggested. "Humans can be sensitive if they feel they are being treated as...curiosities."
"All the humans I have interacted with have been quite agreeable," T'Run assured her calmly. "They are more than willing to answer questions and provide information about their culture."
T'Pol had a sudden sense of misgiving. What kind of questions had the older woman been asking her human crewmates?
"In fact, the human tendency to engage in a communal ritual known as 'gossip' has provided information that supports a theory I developed shortly after our return from the Mahdini planet," T'Run continued. "If it is acceptable to you, I would like to verify my theory."
"What theory is that?" T'Pol questioned calmly, even though she suspected that she already knew the answer.
"That you are engaged in a romantic relationship with the honorable Commander Tucker?"
T'Pol stared at her elder coolly, attempting to formulate a response that would allow her to maintain her equanimity. "What observations have led you to this conclusion?"
T'Run seemed to find nothing untoward in being asked to justify her hypothesis. "Your willingness to risk lives in order to rescue the commander,..."
"The power relays had already been disabled. The only lives endangered were Lieutenant Reed's and my own," T'Pol countered.
"...your failure to fully communicate your intentions to Captain Archer, which appeared to have the purpose of enabling to you avoid violating a direct order,..." T'Run continued after a momentary pause acknowledging T'Pol's input.
"By maintaining communications silence, we reduced our chances of being discovered by the Mahdini," T'Pol reasoned.
"...and the fact that you and the commander referred to each other as t'hai'lu several times during the shuttle's return to Enterprise," T'Run concluded.
"Commander Tucker and I are friends," T'Pol explained, recognizing that her arguments were growing increasingly weak. "It is entirely appropriate that we should refer to each other as such." She narrowed her eyes at T'Run. "And I should caution you that humans consider eavesdropping quite offensive!"
"It was not my intention to eavesdrop, T'Pol-kan," T'Run said gently. "I was merely concerned for the commander's well-being and hoped to offer some assistance." The older woman's eyes twinkled for a moment. "It became obvious, however, that he was well cared for."
The Vulcan diminutive—and T'Run's ready acceptance the increasingly undeniable relationship—startled T'Pol out of her defensiveness. Perhaps she had been interacting with politicians and diplomats for too long. It was logical that a fellow scientist would be less judgmental about a cross-species relationship.
T'Run's next statement left T'Pol in no doubt as to this conclusion.
"Attitudes are changing, child," T'Run reasoned. "A mate of a different species would not carry the stigma today that it might have in the past." T'Run paused to consider her next words carefully. "From what I have observed, Commander Tucker has many of the qualities to be preferred in a bondmate. There are certainly Vulcan males who are far less...satisfactory...than this human."
The other woman's matter-of-fact acceptance left T'Pol speechless. T'Run's words—the Vulcan equivalent of a ringing endorsement—were liberating. And yet she went on to shock the younger woman further still.
"I realize that I am intruding in a most personal matter, T'Pol-kan," the older woman continued. "But these humans intrigue me greatly. I would be most interested to observe and collect data on a cross-species courtship."
T'Pol was stunned at the older woman's audacity, and yet, as a scientist, she had to admit that it was a matter to generate interest. Still...
"I believe I can safely speak for Commander Tucker in this matter. He has no wish to be viewed as an...experiment," she stated firmly.
T'Run sighed. "That is understandable, of course. But would you be willing to keep in touch with me?" she glanced up at T'Pol, and again there was the hint of a twinkle in her eye. "Maybe you wouldn't mind exchanging letters with a curious old woman?"
T'Pol contemplated introducing her elder to the human term "nosy," but decided against it. T'Run meant no harm.
"I believe that would be agreeable," T'Pol replied calmly, after taking a moment to consider the request. "But please do not expect these letters to be overly...detailed."
T'Run twinkled again. "Of course not, child. That would be most inappropriate."
Malcolm Reed peeped around the privacy screen in sickbay. Bloody hell, Trip was still sleeping. Would he never get the chance to speak to his friend? With the ship swarming with Vulcans, many of whom seemed to have formed a kind of fan club for the engineer, it was nearly impossible to catch Trip alone.
The Armory Officer admitted that he could abase himself in public, but he would much prefer to beg for forgiveness in privacy, thank you very much. As Reed was grousing to himself about the unfairness of his lot, the engineer's eyes opened. "About bloody time," Reed growled.
Trip blinked. "Nice ta see you, too," he replied.
Malcolm grimaced. Not a good start. "Sorry, Commander. I've had a bit of difficulty getting in to see you, what with all the Vulcans running about the ship," he explained. "And every time I manage to escape for a few moments, you've been sleeping."
The engineer grinned wryly. "Sorry," he apologized. "Doc says my innards need the rest."
"No doubt!" Malcolm agreed, the memory of his friend's nonstop vomiting all too vivid.
"So, why am I Mr. Popular all of a sudden?"
"I can't speak for the Vulcans, but I would guess that you impressed them with your engineering expertise, what with you saving their lives and all," Reed responded glibly. "And for your knowledge of their language."
"Yeah, it's gettin' kinda embarrassin'," Trip admitted. "I don't know how to handle Vulcans bein' friendly to me." He hesitated a moment before going on. "But I actually meant, why were you so het up to see me?"
The two men eyed each other for a silent moment. Now that Malcolm finally had the opportunity he'd been waiting for, the words he'd prepared didn't want to come.
"Trip," he began, "I want to apologize for my...assumptions. I acted like a complete and utter ass." Once the words began flowing, Reed found it difficult to stop. "You were in a bad spot, and you needed a friend. And instead I behaved like the lowest of juveniles, asking for details of your sexual conquests. As your friend I should have known, I should have realized...God, I'm such a bastard! You're my best friend. I can't believe I treated you that way!"
Malcolm paused in his self-recrimination to see how his friend was taking the apology. Trip was eyeing him blandly, but the Armory Office thought he saw a gleam of amusement in the engineer's eyes. "Feel free to jump in and disagree with me," Reed encouraged acerbically.
"Oh, I dunno, Malcolm. I was kinda enjoying the groveling," his friend responded drolly. Yes, Trip was definitely suppressing a smile. Reed couldn't keep back his own grin. He should have known that his friend wasn't one to hold a grudge.
"Well, I'm glad you liked it," Malcolm responded dryly. "I've been practicing since we returned from Modinok."
The two men sat in companionable silence for several moments, both relieved and pleased. Then Trip spoke up. "It really bothered me that you thought I'd treat Hoshi and T'Pol that way," he said softly, studiously avoiding Reed's gaze, poking nervously at his IV line.
Malcolm shook his head in regret. "I realize that now," he apologized again. "It's just..." the Armory Officer hesitated, struggling to explain his behavior, both to his friend and himself. "I think I was angry...jealous...that you obviously had a secret, and you wouldn't confide in me." He looked down. "I thought you didn't trust me." He raised his eyes to his friend's for a moment, then both men looked away, embarrassed.
"Yeah, I know," Trip acknowledged. After another short silence, he continued. "But you see now why I didn't want anyone to know?" He looked up at Malcolm hopefully.
The Armory Officer shook his head again, grinning impishly. "Oh, most definitely," he chuckled, trying to lighten the moment. "Nothing shrieks 'I love you'—hysterically, I might add—like attempting to learn your would-be paramour's native language!" He continued to laugh softly, pleased to noticed that his friend was joining him, despite turning red around the ears. "No, I understand. Your secret was very..." He trailed off, searching for the appropriate word.
"Embarrassing? Pathetic?" Trip supplied.
"Well, I was trying to decide between 'personal' and 'private,'" Malcolm admitted. "But those work, too!"
"Lieutenant Sato, may I join you?"
Hoshi was jerked back to the reality of the Mess Hall from a daydream which involved her sitting nobly in the captain's chair and issuing orders like one of the bushi ancestors her father was always claiming they had. She turned her attention to the Vulcan First Officer in surprise. Although T'Pol had been nothing but professional in her presence, the linguist had sensed a coldness since the gossip mill had thrown their lives into turmoil. She gulped down her mouthful of salad and gestured for T'Pol to take the seat opposite her.
"I have been meaning to relay to you how impressed the crew of the Karil are with your proficiency in our language." T'Pol addressed the Communications Officer while gazing down intently at her own meal.
"Yes, they've all been very eager to speak with me," Hoshi acknowledged.
"It is well that they are experiencing your skill firsthand," T'Pol answered, somewhat off topic, Hoshi thought. At the linguist's confused look, the Vulcan went on. "Solkar and T'Run were of the opinion that Commander Tucker's poor pronunciation was due to the fact that he had been learning our language from a human, instead of a Vulcan. I am pleased that they have now had the opportunity to realize that such was not the case."
"Ummm—" Hoshi began, unsure how to take what appeared to be both a compliment and an apology.
"Perhaps once the commander has been released from sickbay, he can continue his lessons with you," T'Pol added.
"His pronunciation is going to need more than a few lessons," Hoshi admitted glumly, glad that T'Pol had made it possible for them to treat the extremely personal conversation as shop talk. "He might benefit from some...private tutoring sessions with a native speaker," she suggested innocently.
T'Pol finally raised her eyes from her pasta. The two women shared a look. "Perhaps," T'Pol agreed slowly.
"And who better to tutor him than a t'hai'la?" Hoshi added mischievously, dropping her eyes back to her salad. T'Pol sat in stone-faced silence for so long that Hoshi could stand it no longer and raised her gaze back to the Vulcan.
"A friend would be the best person to assist him," T'Pol admitted grudgingly.
"Absolutely, Sub-Commander," Hoshi chirped supportively. "A...friend would be the best person to explain to the commander how Vulcan words sometimes have more than one meaning."
Hoshi smiled smugly into her salad, ignoring T'Pol's glare.