Is the Dedicato still safe and sound on its mahogany Dedicato shelf? Hmmm...
Thanks to all of our kind reviewers. We're glad you're enjoying
the stuff. :D Now on to the next chapter. No 2D effects this time, though.
Sorry.
I did include a nice star chart, however.
Natalie's Merchant
Chapter 7- Paperwork on the Edge of Forever
Iambard squeaked.
Phone to ear, he carefully leaned forward, desperately trying not to squeak again. Unfortunately, however...
"No, Mr. Shaltmore," he squeaked. "I'm not implying that at all. I'm not implying anything."
"... ..... ....!"
"Yes, I understand. It's just that-"
".... .... .... .. .. ..... .. .. .... ... ...!"
"There no need to get personal," Iambard squeaked. "My weight is my concern, isn't it?"
".... ..... .. ... .... .. ... .....!"
"I suppose it might squeak less if I did lose a few, but that's not going to happen overnight."
Just then, there came a knock on the door, followed by the door opening, followed by Jooly and her Look of Urgency. Dr. Necessiter never liked to see that look. He tried to pretend he didn't notice.
"I'm speaking with the chair man," he said, cupping the receiver. "Is it urgent?"
She replayed her Look for him.
"Alright, alright," he sighed. "Listen, um, Mr. Shaltmore? I'm afraid I'm going to have to let you go. Something's come up."
"... ..... ... ... .... ... .... ... ... ... ....-!"
"Oh, get over yourself already," he said with a click. "So now, Jooly, what's the matter?"
"The aliens, Sir!"
"Oh my God!" he squeaked in disbelief. "I just hung up on Haarvie Shaltmore! The Haarvie Shaltmore!"
"That's not important right now, Sir!"
"Easy for you to say," he squeaked. "Your chair's fine."
"No, no," she implored. "The aliens! The police just called. There's been an incident!"
"Incident?" he squeaked. "What kind of incident?"
"One of the aliens shot Nansy Pickles!"
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Wow."
After a moment's reflection, he continued, "Well, Goff's young, and there's still plenty of fish in the sea... I'm sure he- Jooly, why is there a press-bot hovering outside my window?"
The press-bot moved a bit to the left, zoomed in, then flashed five or six quick pictures of the ever-so-slightly nonplussed Necessiter.
"That's what I've been trying to tell you," she stressed, then she picked up the remote control and turned on his stellavision. "See for yourself, Sir. It's all over the news!"
On the screen before them, an unseen press-bot looked down through a high flying swarm of ten or so seen press-bots, below and beyond which was the well-manicured estate of Oskar Pickles. As the bots jockeyed for position, the newswoman's voice spoke in the background.
"Alright, we have a few corrections to make... Um... Oskar Pickles is fine. I repeat, Oskar Pickles is uninjured."
With that, the news director returned to the studio, though the estate remained in a small box in the upper corner of the screen. The newswoman spoke again.
"For those of you just tuning in, we recently reported that Oskar Pickles was killed by an obsessive fan, when in actuality, Oskar Pickles' daughter was killed by an obsessive-"
A small inside press-bot suddenly flew past the woman and dropped off a piece of paper.
"Ok... Stay with us, folks," she encouraged. "Oskar Pickles' daughter was not killed by an obsessive fan, she was, in fact, killed by a... Ok, it appears that she's only been critically injured, and- Hold on."
She held her finger to her ear.
"Ok, I've just been told that we have the 9-1-1-1 tape. Is it ready? Ok, here is the actual 9-1-1-1 call that Nansy Pickles made right before being shot. What? Right after being shot. By what we believe were aliens. Possibly alien fans. Let's listen..."
Jooly and Iambard looked on in horror. Without realizing it, they held hands. The screen changed to the image of an old tape recorder with the words, "Nansy Pickles' 9-1-1-1 Call" written across the middle. Then shrieking was heard.
9-1-1-1 Operator: 9-1-1-1. What is your emergency?
Pickles: Hello??
9-1-1-1 Operator: What is your emergency please?
Pickles: I'll tell you what my emergency is - I nearly got BLEEP-ing vaporized by an alien! That's what my BLEEP-ing emergency is!
9-1-1-1 Operator: Is the perpetrator still in the house?
Pickles: I'm not in a BLEEP-ing house, ok?
9-1-1-1 Operator: Try to calm down, Ma'am. Where are you calling from?
Pickles: From inside a BLEEP-ity BLEEP-ing BLEEP!
9-1-1-1 Operator: Excuse me?
Pickles: Look, I'm on Natalie II in the Samantha region. I don't know where exactly, because I let Goff BLEEP-ing drive!
9-1-1-1 Operator: Ok, hang on. We'll triangulate your position.
Pickles: BLEEP.
9-1-1-1 Operator: Ma'am? We've located your position, and we're sending help right away.
Pickles: Thank you. You hear that?? I've called the cops!! And pretty soon you guys are gonna be is some BLEEP-ity BLEEP! And I'm not BLEEP-ing kidding!
As it was soon obvious that Nansy was still very much alive and well, both Necessiter and his secretary relaxed somewhat and breathed a sigh of relief. The doctor clicked off his stellavision, and it was at this point that he suddenly realized he was holding hands with his secretary. Iambard's cheeks turned a rosy red as he quickly let go; Jooly, however, lingered for a moment then sadly turned away.
"What's the matter?" he squeaked. "Nansy's fine."
"It's not that. It's just..."
"Jooly?"
Unable to bear the strain any longer, she burst into tears and stood sobbing before him. Iambard squeaked up from his chair and took her in his arms.
"There, there," he soothed. "It's alright. It's- You know, your eyes... I- I never realized how lovely they were before..."
"Really?" she sobbed. "Do you really mean it?"
"They're like two sapphires..."
"Emeralds," she sniffled.
"They're like two emeralds...glistening in the morning suns," he lamented. "Oh, Jooly..."
"Oh, Iambard!" she cried.
And with that, the two embraced for a music-swelling cinematic kiss, except there was no music, and the only cameras belonged to the growing party of press-bots outside Necessiter's window. Of course, their flashing bulbs were sort of like exploding fireworks, so...
.......
.......
.......
Pickles' Daughter Shot By Alien
ISABELLA, Natalie (AP) - The daughter of famed food stylist Oskar Pickles was shot early Wynsday afternoon by an alien from the planet Earth. Nansy Pickles, 24, was assaulted in the Samantha region of northwest Natalie II while on a diplomatic mission with a colleague.
The incident occurred shortly after 2 PM when Pickles entered the aliens' campsite and approached their makeshift craft. According to official reports, Ms. Pickles called out to the person or persons inside the craft and was immediately shot with what police are calling an energy-based weapon.
"From what we know of the pistol so far, things could have turned out much, much worse," said Detective Frank Cheekie of the Isabella Police Department. "The device appears to have two settings: one kills you, the other one doesn't."
Detective Cheekie went on to describe the weapon as being crudely fashioned.
"We're still running some tests," he told reporters at the 5 PM press conference. "But judging from the looks of it, I'm surprised the thing hasn't blown up in our hands. As far as I'm concerned, Ms. Pickles is lucky to be alive."
Pickles, who suffered only minor injuries in the attack, works as the Assistant to the Undersecretary of Tourism. She spoke briefly with reporters after being released from Millicent Mercy Hospital late this afternoon.
"Goff (Pugh) and I had gotten separated, but I didn't think anything about it because the place is just such a paradise, you know? Well, I kept going and found the camp, and I ran up to their- God, I hate to call it a ship, but I guess I'll have to. Anyways, I ran up to their 'ship' and that guy was standing right in the door, and the next thing I knew I was waking up inside the thing with these two goons leering over me."
Pickles went on to say that she immediately ordered the aliens out of the vessel and then phoned police.
"You can tell on the 9-1-1-1 tape that I was pretty upset," she said. "But who wouldn't be? I mean, the (expletive deleted) bastards had just shot me, and not only that, they ruined my Les Cretal rainslicker!"
"Do you know how long I had to wait just to get on the list for one of these things?" she said, holding up the coat. "Now look at it. It's completely (expletive deleted)!"
Sergeant Tod Peppier of the Isabella Police Department was the responding officer and described the scene as "chaotic."
"My partner and I arrived shortly after 3 PM, and the whole place looked like a tornado had hit it," he said at today's press conference. "Since we didn't know who was who at the time, we handcuffed everybody then sorted things out from there. It took us about thirty minutes to figure out that the guy on the ground was actually the suspect."
The shooter, Ensign Travas Mariwether from the planet Earth, was taken by ambulance to Millicent Mercy Hospital and is currently being treated under armed guard. He was injured after Pickles' colleague and boyfriend, Goff Pugh, exercised his rights under Section Four of the Trendarian Code of Social Conduct.
"I tried to be as gentle with him as I could," he later told reporters. "But I guess (Mariwether) was more fragile than he looked."
Pugh, who is best known for winning three gold medals in the Thrashing event at the 2928 O'lympix, works as the Assistant to the Secretary of Technology. He went on to say that, even though he was well within his rights under Section Four, he thought the shooting was an accident.
"I know that the press will have a field day with this unfortunate incident," Pugh stated. "But I'd just like to let everyone know that the Earthlings really seem like decent people. How would you or I feel wandering about open space in such poorly designed craft? I think the fellow had reached his wits' end and simply acted on impulse."
Other members of the government, however, are less sympathetic and have used this incident to speak out about the issue of alien rights. Senator Dense Lysting (R) from Elizabeth has called for an investigation into the matter, as well as for a review of the Alien Welcoming Act of 2936.
"We are either terribly optimistic or terribly naive to think that all new species will come here just to take vacations," he addressed reporters this afternoon. "If you'll remember, I voted against the AWA because I thought the Tourism Department was ill-equipped to handle such important matters of state."
He went on to say that stricter rules need to be implemented with regards to first contacts.
"Right now, we pretty much let aliens come and go as they please. After what happened today, though, I think the legislature is going to have to make some tough decisions. We will eventually have to face up to the fact that not every species is going to be as friendly as the Chalopans or Olivantians. Warp technology has brought many good things to Trendar in the past five years, but it has also brought some sobering questions that the President and the Congress can no longer ignore."
Along with the suspect, police are detaining at least two other aliens at this time. Though Detective Frank Cheekie declined to release their names, he did say that they were cooperating with authorities.
"I think it's pretty clear that the shooter (Mariwether) acted alone," he said at today's conference. "We just brought these two in for questioning. They'll be released as soon as we've finished our investigation."
Detective Cheekie went on to say that he didn't know what the aliens were doing in Natalie II, and the DOT's official report has revealed few clues.
Records indicate that the aliens entered orbit yesterday shortly after making first contact at 10:37 AM XST. They then landed at the Alien Welcome Center in the capitol around noon where they were greeted by Ms. Pickles in accordance with her duties at the Tourism Department.
The report goes on to describe the aliens' interest in refined itonium which was addressed personally by Secretary of Technology, Dr. Iambard Necessiter. Although unavailable for direct comment, Dr. Necessiter released a statement via his secretary a short time ago.
"The Earthlings whom I met yesterday seemed like reasonable people," he wrote. "But from what I've seen of their design work, I don't know how they made it this far out in space."
"Quite frankly, it looks like they build their spaceships from tin cans and bits of string. That's why they came here in the first place: they were looking for spare parts. I think they could be some sort of space gypsies."
Indeed, there may be some truth to this conjecture as witnessed by Sergeant Peppier, who later described the crime scene in greater detail.
"I don't know whether these are good people or not," he told reporters. "I try to keep an open mind. But that campsite was a disaster area. Those people had trash scattered around everywhere outside their 'ship'. I don't care who you are or where you're from, I just don't see how you can live like that."
As of this printing, none of the aliens were available for comment.
Earth, which is located in the Rachel Sector, is approximately 400 light years away (see map) and is believed to be a desert planet.
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"Dead."
"Williams?"
"Dead."
"Jones?"
"Dead, Sir."
"Smith?"
"Dead."
"Driver?"
"Dead, Sir."
"Trip?"
"Deader'n a doornail."
"Wonderful."
The men were standing in complete and total darkness. The fresh flashlights that the rescuers had brought with them had gone dead. Their backup flashlights had gone dead. Their communicators, which could have been used to call for reserve backup flashlights, had gone dead. Though they weren't as deep in the cave as when they started, they were still quite far from the surface.
"How can everything we have be dead?" the captain griped.
"There's gotta be somethin' down here that's drainin' our energy," Trip guessed out loud. "There's just no other explanation for it."
"Could be," Archer mused. "Phlox, how about your scanner?"
...
"Phlox?"
...
"Not again," the captain moaned. After a long and Phlox-less moment, he addressed the darkness. "Ok, I don't want anybody to move from this spot. Is that clear?"
The group gave a collective "yes, sir."
"The plan is this: we're going to wait here until either Enterprise sends another rescue team, or they get some help from the Trendarians. Is that clear?"
The group gave another collective "yes, sir."
"Driver, why don't you take a water inventory?" Trip suggested.
"Yes, Sir," he said.
As Ensign Driver began taking stock of their water rations, Commander Tucker pulled Archer aside.
"Cap'ain, what're we gonna do about Phlox? We can't just leave him wanderin' around down here by himself... All alone..."
"I don't see that we have a choice," the captain whispered. "As a matter of fact, I don't see much of anything."
"Well, how's about we all yell for him?" Trip suggested.
"I guess it's the least we can do," Archer relented. "Ok, now listen everybody... On three, we're going to yell for Phlox... Ready? One... Two..."
"I'm right here, Captain!"
Hisss...
"Thanks for rejoining us," Archer grumped.
"Certainly!" Phlox said, missing the captain's sarcasm altogether. The doctor then turned his bug on its back, shedding a modest light on the party.
Hissssss!
"Doctor," Jonathan said calmly. "For future's sake, don't wander off without letting someone know about it. That's an order."
"I do apologize, Captain," he said. "But since our lights were failing so rapidly, I thought I should go retrieve some more...some more of nature's own!"
With that, Phlox reached into his pockets and began handing out bugs to each of the men.
"Turn them on their backs," he instructed as he went. "Yes, that's it!"
"Mine's not working, Doc," Jones said.
"Just, ahh, jiggle him a bit, Crewman."
Hissss-s-s-S-S-S-S-S-S-S!
"Thanks, Doc!"
"Captain? Bug?"
Hisssssss!
"Alright," Archer sighed. "Good job, Doctor."
"Thank you, Captain!" Phlox grinned. "Commander?"
Hisssssss!
"Uh... No thanks," he said. "We've got enough light already."
"Why, Commander! You're not afraid of bugs, are you?"
Hisssssssss!
"No," he said. "No. I just think I should have both my hands free... In case somebody slips or somethin'... I could catch 'em. Yeah. I could catch 'em!"
"Or perhaps you can, ahh, fend off Injun Joe?" Phlox said literally. "Since he might be lurking behind a rock down here somewhere, ha!"
Hissssss!
"Very funny."
"I didn't know you were into old Earth literature, Phlox!" Jonathan smiled.
"I've found that you can learn a lot about a species from what they read," he said. "And the longer a book stays in a culture's canon, the more valuable a tool it becomes for outsiders."
"I can see that..."
"How about you, Captain? Have you read any of the Denobulan classics? 'Ebon Clavus'? or perhaps, 'Shlin to Prolos?'"
"Well, you know, I've, uhh, been meaning to..."
Hisssssss!
"Oh, that's quite all right, Captain," Phlox beamed. "You can learn a lot about a species from what they don't read as well!"
"Uh-huh," the captain hemmed. "I suppose you couldn't lend me a copy of Ebo-?"
"'Ebon Clavus'," Phlox assisted. "Certainly! I'd be glad to!"
Hissssssss!
"Thanks," Jonathan said. "Ok, people, let's, uhh, shake our bugs and get the hell out of here."
And so, with much hissing, the team started out again for the ever-elusive exit. High above them, above the cave and the trees, above the mountains and the clouds, above the very sky itself, above the last hint of rarefied air before nothingness smothered all living things, there was a ship. And on this ship was a Vulcan.
Neglected lo these many chapters, isolated far from any action, so very limited in her fanfic duties- a phrase here, a sentence there - her time had finally come.
This chapter concludes with the story of her day, told mostly in her own words, dry though they may be. By all accounts and comparisons, it was a dull one: she weathered no storm, she fired no weapon, she cracked no nut, but still...
It was her day and no one else's.
The time is 7 PM.
She has just ended her shift.
.....
.....
.....
Alone in her peacefully quiet quarters, T'Pol lit a meditation candle and took it to her bathroom. With the sound of running water in the background, she quickly returned and moved to her computer console. Scrolling to the file marked "6-28-52", she pressed "play" and began to disrobe.
Science Officer's log, June 28, 2152.
Zero six hundred hours: I reported for duty on the bridge.
Six thirty-four: Captain Archer placed me in command, then he, Commander Tucker, Lieutenant Reed, Ensign Mayweather, and Doctor Phlox departed for the surface to search for the merchant.
Seven eleven: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise and inquired about the quarterly crew evaluation reports. I stated that I was under the assumption they had already been completed. He said that there were no records to support my claim, and I told him that I would look into the matter and respond to him directly.
Seven fifteen: I entered the captain's ready room and found the untouched reports beneath a stack of out-dated "Water Polo Weekly" magazines. I contacted Admiral Forrest and told him that the evaluations had yet to be completed and that I would remind the captain as soon as he returned. Admiral Forrest stated that he needed them for his report to Starfleet which was due this afternoon. He strongly suggested that I fill them out and transmit them as soon as possible.
Seven twenty: I began filling out the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Eight twenty-two: After completing evaluations through the letter D, I went to the mess hall for some tea then proceeded to the armory and found two unused auxiliary access panels that were approximate in dimension to my design. I removed the panels to my quarters before returning to the captain's ready room and resuming work on the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Nine twenty-seven: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise to inquire on the status of the quarterly crew evaluation reports. I informed him that I was up to the G's and that I would contact him when all the reports were completed.
Nine forty-four: Ensign Sato detected a storm in the area of the landing party. This was soon confirmed by Ensign Mayweather who contacted Enterprise from the shuttle pod on the surface. He went on to say that the other members of the landing party had not returned to the shuttle. Before conducting a sensor sweep to find the rest of the crew, I urged the ensign to remain calm then ordered him to retrieve the captain's pet.
Ten fifteen: Enterprise's sensors could not determine the exact location of the rest of the landing party, but their life signs were stable. I decided not to risk Shuttle Pod B, reasoning that they had taken refuge in a cave. I informed Ensign Mayweather of the situation and again encouraged him to remain calm. I then returned to the captain's ready room to work on the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Eleven twenty-one: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise to inquire on the status of the quarterly crew evaluation reports. I informed him that I was up to the K's and that I would contact him when all the reports were completed.
Twelve hundred hours: I went to the mess hall for a salad then proceeded to engineering where I was able to find a tube of water-proof silicone sealant. I removed the sealant to my quarters before returning to the captain's ready room and resuming my work on the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Thirteen ten: Enterprise received a garbled message from Doctor Necessiter saying that he had earlier dispatched his assistant and his assistant's partner to help with the search for the merchant and that they should be arriving soon. He then suggested that Ensign Sato's skills might be required, because he wasn't sure if his assistant's partner spoke Chalopan. I informed him that I would send Ensign Sato to the surface as soon as the weather allowed. I tried to contact Ensign Mayweather to inform him of this development, but I am unsure if the message was received due to storm interference.
Thirteen thirty-nine: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise to inquire on the status of the quarterly crew evaluation reports. I informed him that I was up to the P's and that I might work more efficiently with fewer interruptions.
Fourteen hundred hours: I received a transmission from Lieutenant Reed informing me that Doctor Phlox was lost in a cave and that Captain Archer and Commander Tucker were searching for him. He requested a rescue team comprising of Crewmen Jones, Smith, Miller, and Williams, after which his transmission became unintelligible. I urged him to remain calm and proceeded to organize the party which included Ensigns Driver and Sato. Shuttle pod 2 departed at 13:58 hours.
Fourteen forty-two: Enterprise was contacted by Ambassador Soval from the Vulcan High Command. He stated that Admiral Forrest had requested that he speak with me and inquire on the status of the quarterly crew evaluation reports. I requested that Ambassador Soval remind the admiral that I had other duties in addition to filling out Captain Archer's quarterly crew evaluation reports, and that it was illogical for him to assume that I would work faster with constant inquiries regarding their status.
Fourteen forty-five: I went to the mess hall for some more tea then proceeded to the captain's quarters where I was able to find a rubberized ball belonging to the captain's pet. I removed the ball to my quarters and placed it in the drain hole where it fit perfectly. I then returned to the captain's ready room to finish the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Fifteen hundred hours: Lieutenant Reed contacted me from the surface and informed me that the rescue party had found Captain Archer, Commander Tucker, and Doctor Phlox. He also informed me that he had located the merchant, after which the transmission was interrupted by more interference. I made a note to try to determine the cause of the interference as it could no longer be the storm, since it ended some time ago.
Fifteen thirty: I completed the quarterly crew evaluation reports.
Fifteen thirty-four: I enlisted Ensign Reynolds to assist me with the installation of the two auxiliary access panels in my quarters. After fastening them into an "L" shape, we installed the assembly across the bottom of my shower stall. I then applied the silicone and sealed the edges of the panel assembly to the shower walls and floor. Ensign Reynolds inquired if I was building a bath tub, and I quickly reminded her that bath tubs are not allowed due to their wasteful nature. I stated in no uncertain terms that this was a Vulcan Meditation Pool, and she seemed satisfied.
Sixteen twenty-three: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise demanding to know the status of the quarterly crew evaluation reports. He went on to say that if they were not received by seventeen hundred hours, there would be "hell to pay". I urged him to remain calm and assured him that the quarterly crew evaluation reports would be transmitted on time.
Sixteen fifty-nine: I transmitted the quarterly crew evaluation reports to Admiral Forrest.
Seventeen eleven: Admiral Forrest contacted Enterprise and demanded to know why the quarterly crew evaluation reports were written in Vulcan. I told him that, due to their urgency and my lack of time to complete them, I chose Vulcan because I could work faster. I apologized for the inconvenience and suggested that Vulcan High Command could assist him with the translation.
Eighteen twenty-five: Having received no word from the landing party in over four hours, I debated attempting to contact them. I decided against this action, however, as Doctor Necessiter had reported that this particular merchant was always somewhat deliberate in his dealings. If there has been no communication by morning, I will reconsider this decision.
Nineteen hundred hours: I ended my thirteen hour shift and transferred the overnight command to Ensign Reynolds. I instructed her to consult me only in the case of an emergency. I then left the bridge and returned to my quarters.
T'Pol pressed the "stop" button and stood. With the slightest of sighs, she looked down at her socks and knew them to be the last obstacle of the day. They taunted her.
She tried to will them off but finally just bent and pulled at the ankles. Vanquished, the socks fell to the floor.
Grabbing a towel and a small box, T'Pol moved to her bathroom. Quite barely, she stood before the nearly filled Vulcan Meditation Pool and shook in some Vulcan Meditation Salts, which produced a good number of white, Vulcan Meditation Bubbles.
Finally, she turned off the tap, tested the water, then eased herself fully into the depths where she slowly leaned back, exhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and proceeded to...
The comm chirped.
...soak.
The comm chirped again.
T'Pol ignored it.
The comm chirped a third time and was now accompanied by a voice.
"Hello? Is anybody there? Maybe I'm not pushing the right button... Hello? Testing, one, two... Hello?"
The faucet dripped.
T'Pol opened her eyes and sat up just far enough for her sudsy fingers to find the comm button.
"This is Sub-commander T'Pol," she said calmly. "To whom am I speaking?"
"Well, Ma'am, my name's William, but my friends call me Billy. You can call me Billy if you want. Not that I'm saying that we're friends, which wouldn't be bad at all. I just wouldn't want you to think I was being presumptuous or anything..."
The faucet dripped.
"William," T'Pol asked calmly. "Do you have a rank?"
"Yes, Ma'am," he said. "Crewman, 2nd Class."
"And do you have a last name?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Dithers, Ma'am."
"Very well, Crewman Dithers, may I ask why you have chosen to introduce yourself to me at this particular time?"
"Well, Ma'am, there's this ship outside that's asking permission to dock, and I don't know which buttons to push for the docking clamps. And even if I did, I'm not sure I should be letting him hook up to us in the first place, because you never know about aliens. Not that I'm prejudiced or anything..."
The faucet dripped.
"From where are you calling, Crewman Dithers?" she asked calmly.
"The bridge, Ma'am."
"Where is Ensign Reynolds?" she asked calmly.
"She's with Ensign Higgins, Ma'am."
"And where is Ensign Higgins?" she asked calmly.
"Well, he's with- I mean, they said they had to go down to engineering and count the warp cores or something. They said they'd be back in about thirty minutes."
"I see."
"Tommy... I mean, Ensign Higgins... He told me to come up here and look after things while they were gone."
"I see."
"Ma'am, I usually work down in the laundry room. I'm in charge of ironing? I don't mind telling you - I think I'm a little bit in over my head here."
"Yes."
"What should I do about this ship that wants to dock?"
T'Pol thought for a moment, then she thought for a moment more, then she eased herself back beneath the Vulcan Meditation Bubbles.
The faucet dripped.
"Ma'am? What should I-?"
"Tell the ship," T'Pol soaked flatly, "that we are closed. Suggest to them that they try again tomorrow."
"Yes, Ma'am," he said.
The comm fell silent, and T'Pol sank deeper into her Vulcan Meditation Pool. With her nose just above the waterline, she stared down at her toes for a moment, then with some hesitation she closed her eyes.
The faucet dripped.
She peeked up at the menacing comm.
The faucet dripped.
Finally, she submerged beneath the warming waters, disappearing for a long moment before returning with a muted splash, her hair thoroughly drenched, Vulcan Meditation Suds adorning her head like a bubbly crown.
The comm chirped.
T'Pol muttered something in Vulcan, then she wiped her eyes and wearily pressed the button.
"This is T'Pol," she sighed.
"I'm sorry to bother you again, Ma'am, but this guy says it's important."
"Was he any more specific?" she dripped flatly.
"Yes, Ma'am," Dithers began. "He said that right before Reed and that pretty pale girl got hauled off in the police cruiser, she yelled up to him and asked him if he wouldn't care to get in touch with you and tell you that the captain and the others never did turn up, and that Travis had shot some hysterical woman whose name he couldn't remember, and that her boyfriend had kicked Travis' ass. I'm sorry, Ma'am, I'm paraphrasing. He talked kinda fast. Anyways... He said that she said to tell you that Travis had been taken away in an ambulance, and that her and Reed were being hauled off to jail and that you would know what to do or would come bail them out or something."
Dithers drew a charging breath.
"Oh, and one more thing," he continued. "Seems kinda funny now that I think of it. I mean, it seems like it would be the first thing you'd tell somebody, you know? I'm sorry, I'm just rambling. This fella on the ship? Well, he's kind of a funny-looking bird. Really freaked me out. I'm sure you're used to stuff like that though. Not that I haven't seen a talking bird before. My uncle used to have this parrot called Hambone. He could talk. But you couldn't really carry on a conversation with him, you know what I mean?"
The faucet dripped.
"Ma'am?"
Crewman Dithers' feathery revelations fell on dying bubbles and watery footprints, because Sub-commander T'Pol was already halfway down the corridor, dressing as she went. She stumbled, tugged, and buttoned - all with measured aplomb - with her boots in one hand and a desperate towel in the other. Pretty much together in all of thirty seconds, she sprinted calmly towards the turbolift, refusing to think more than twice about her hair.
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