Although he knew he should probably check on the others first, Scott
lay on the bunk Reed showed him, closing his eyes and wishing...wishing
for something he couldn't quite articulate. Maybe it was security. Or
peace. Or a leggy red-head who drank too much coffee.
He removed his glasses and put on his visor--not the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but less likely to slip off and cause him to put a hole in the ship. Too bad he hadn't been carrying his night goggles along with glasses and visor.
Perhaps the engineers could make something...make something comfortable, so he could sleep. Sleep.
Scott slept.
When the blaring alarm startled Scott out of restless sleep, his first instinct was to reach for the visor on his nightstand. A flailing hand met nothing but air and his eyes shot open when he realized he was already wearing the visor.
"Jean, what's happ--" Like a kick to the groin, memories hit him, leaving nausea in their wake. No Jean. No school. Outer space.
Reed wasn't there. The alarm obviously meant something serious was happening, but Scott was reluctant to dash out without a better idea what had gone wrong.
He tried the communication system, but it was shut down, and the computer didn't allow him sufficient access, leaving reconnaissance the only option.
Breathing deeply, he hit the button to open the door but nothing happened. Curiouser and curiouser. He could blast through it, he was certain, but that might be fatal to whoever was on the other side, friend or foe.
Had the captain found some reason to distrust him? Were guards on their way? Or was some outside force at work? He cursed the impulse that allowed his team to separate. They should have slept in the brig if necessary. How the hell was he supposed to protect them if he didn't even know where they were?
A sound behind him and he whirled, hand to his visor. Kitty scrambled through the wall, holding onto the comm officer, Ensign Sato, whose eyes were wide. "Mr. Summers!"
"What's going on?"
"The ship's been boarded by Xindi," Sato said, breathing hard. "Captain Archer managed to comm a few of us before the bridge was taken. He, the first officer, and the chief engineer were all there. Lieutenant Reed is somewhere down in the armory, but we got cut off when the intruders took out the comms."
"Can you find Bobby and Logan and get us to the armory? We can't do much good from here."
Sato nodded after a sharp glance at him, but she seemed willing to accept his leadership. "Bobby's no problem since he's probably in Michael's quarters, but Logan's with the MACOs and they could be any number of places."
"Okay, only Bobby then. Logan can take care of himself anyway."
"Then let's go."
"Ready?" He looked and Kitty and she nodded, taking their hands. "Which way?"
Sato thought for a second and pointed.
With a feeling that he could see the molecular structure of the ship's walls, Scott followed the two women, trying to remember what little he'd seen of the ship's layout and weaponry.
When they dropped through the ceiling into Rostov's quarters, they found Bobby pacing back and forth. His face lit up. "There you are! Michael left for engineering a few minutes ago, then the alarm went off."
"Grab hold," Scott said, and with that they were on their way again.
The sound of energy weapons was incredibly noisy in the confined quarters of the ship--a whine like a million mosquitos and crickets combined with the shouts of the ship's human defenders. With instincts that Scott was pleased to see, Kitty dragged them sideways into a room. The startled occupant looked up from an open panel. "Hoshi?"
Sato grinned. "Hey, Alison. Would you like a lift to the armory?"
Grinning fiercely in return, she jumped up and took Bobby's hand. "Hey, even we engineers can shoot if we have to. I was getting ready to take a chance on the conduits, but I think I like your way better."
They plunged through a dizzying series of walls, corridors, and floors. Scott let his spatial sense map out their path while he kept an eye on Kitty; he was worried she'd tire, but adrenaline kept her bright-eyed and energetic.
Through another gray wall and Sato grinned. "Straight down, but be ready for Malcolm to shoot at us." And they were sinking, dropping to the floor of the armory, where ten weapons were instantly trained on them.
"Freeze," Reed shouted.
"We're here to help," Sato said.
"Them?" He stared.
"Yes, them."
Reed seemed about to refuse, but one of the marines stepped forward. "Lieutenant, it'd be mighty handy to have a girl who can walk through walls and a guy with laser eyes."
Scott decided this might not be the best time to correct misconceptions about his mutation.
"Major Hawkins is right," another marine said. "After all, Logan's been damn helpful so far."
"Logan? Where is he?" Scott looked around the room, but saw only grim-faced marines and other members of the crew.
"He and a couple of the guys are doing a little scouting around engineering. Lieutenant, he got hit by that Xindi weapon and got right back up!"
A small access point at the far end of the room swung open and the weapons turned that way, relaxing when Logan and several soldiers jumped out.
"What's the situation?" Reed asked.
"Engineering's locked down. The bastards haven't gotten in yet, but they're getting close." The soldier continued to give his report and Logan trotted over to Scott.
"Ugly," he said, a snarl hovering on his lips. "But they die when you cut them."
Scott nodded, already tuning in to the conversation. Reed had a map of the ship up, pointing out where he wanted troops to go. Sighing at the necessity, Scott called, "What about us?"
Reed twisted halfway around. "I want you to stay out of this."
Scott had already picked out his target and with a quick flick of his visor, he blasted a stool halfway across the room, people leaping out of its way. "I can do a lot more than that. Let me help."
"Let us help," Bobby said.
Scott shot him a look, and was about to tell him no, but from the look on his face and Kitty's, that would be a struggle he'd lose, along with valuable time.
He couldn't call Reed indecisive either. "Fine, you're all with me. Gomez, Chen, join Hawkins. The rest of you know what to do. Go."
"What are we doing?" Kitty asked.
Reed looked at her and looked at Scott. "If you're sure..."
Bobby stood up straight and tried to look like an adult. "We're not waiting here!"
Scott grinned quickly, a well of pride in his chest. "But I want the two of you to stay intangible as much as possible, okay?" They nodded and he looked at Reed. "They're with us."
"Good, then we're going to take back the bridge. I've spent a lot of time training Captain Archer. I'd hate for it to go to waste."
The deck was cold under Jon's knees as he knelt, but not nearly as cold as his anger at the reptilian Xindi who sat in his chair, his splotchy, bumpy face contorted into an amused snarl. The Xindi who'd casually backhanded Trip into a bulkhead when he'd refused to lock down the ship's doors. The one who'd shot Ensign Tanner from the armory, who'd tried to defend the bridge.
From where he knelt, a hard hand against the back of his neck, Jon was pretty sure he could see both Trip and Tanner breathing. Elsewhere, he knew the crew was fighting, because the reports coming in to the Xindi commander said so. His eyes widened at the reports of a man with claws. Jon hoped the visitors from another Earth weren't going to get themselves killed in his fight.
"I have not been able to break the final codes," the Xindi at the science console said.
"Then perhaps," the commander said, "It is time we convinced these humans to help." He stepped over to where Trip lay and lifted him up like a rag doll. "Would you miss this one? Or perhaps that one over there?" He pointed at T'Pol, whose face didn't change.
Breathing gone shallow, Jon couldn't respond, couldn't move. He had to wait, to stall, but his mind was blank. Hurry, Malcolm, he thought.
Reed eyed the mutants as the rest of the security team dispersed. Scott could detect a hint of amusement when all of them studied him back.
Reed tapped a few commands into a handheld device. "We'll use your ability to go through walls to put us right behind the bridge. These are the schematics."
Scott held the display so the other three could see.
"Here's what we're going to do..."
Trip's head lolled forward, a puppet held by a malevolent puppeteer. Short sharp breaths escaped Jon as he stared at his friend. T'Pol was silent, but he knew what she or Trip would be telling him.
There was no possible response to the Xindi, so he stared at the commander, despair burning his heart. He wanted to close his eyes but that would be a betrayal. He held his breath as the Xindi growled, holding a weapon to Trip's head.
The bridge seemed to explode with simultaneous action. A thin, red beam smashed into the weapon pointed at Trip's head, followed by one that threw the Xindi and Trip against the wall. Before anyone could respond, Malcolm was there, shooting Xindi with surgical precision.
Two hapless Xindi standing in front of the captain's chair were practically skewered by Logan, claws out and a full-throated roar coming from his chest.
Struggling upright, the Xindi commander reached for another weapon strapped to his chest, but before it cleared its casing, it was covered in a thick layer of ice.
Dazed, Jon watched Kitty blithely running through weapons aimed at her, which then refused to fire. Streams of ice flew from Bobby's hand to smash a Xindi who tried to attack with just his hands.
It was all over so fast he barely had time to catch his breath. While Scott and Bobby kept an eye on the unconscious Xindi, Malcolm hurried over to him, glancing down at the manacles that held his wrists. "Logan?"
The sound of metal grating on metal, and one claw came out of the man's knuckles. More delicately than Jon might have imagined, Logan used the claw to slice off his handcuffs.
Over Malcolm's shoulder, Jon could see Trip slowly sitting up with Kitty's assistance. She dabbed at several wounds, but Jon saw none that looked especially serious.
From that point, retaking the ship was almost anticlimactic. Before Jon was even standing upright, Malcolm and T'Pol were receiving reports from all over the ship. "Sir, engineering has been secured by my team."
"Good."
"There's still a great deal of hand-to-hand combat in the corridors, but we've got them on the run." Malcolm snapped several orders into a communicator and Jon took the opportunity to turn toward the visitors, who were standing guard over the Xindi that had been on the bridge.
"Thank you," he said to Summers.
"It's not done," Logan said. "They're still out there."
Summers looked at Jon, his expression long-suffering. "Captain, with your permission, I think my associate here would like to go hit some more Xindi."
Jon glanced at Malcolm, who nodded. "Far be it from me to prevent someone from hitting Xindi on my ship."
Logan and Malcolm went into a huddle over a map and Jon turned to T'Pol. "Sub-commander?"
"I am well, Captain. There is some damage to sensors, but I believe I am detecting approximately 50 Xindi on Enterprise and another 100 on their own ship."
"We've neutralized at least 40 of those that are here," Malcolm said as Logan dropped into a Jeffries tube toward the lower decks.
"What next, Malcolm?"
"Sir, we should--" His eyes snapped back to the display in front of him. "They're retreating."
Everyone looked up from their tasks.
"Good," Jon said, sighing. "Right now that's good enough. Get our people out of their way. I don't want anyone killed while the enemy is leaving."
"Aye, sir."
Malcolm issued quiet orders and Jon turned to T'Pol. "Get me a damage report as soon as possible. And get someone up here to guard these pris--"
A yelp from Kitty made Jon's heart jump as he whirled. She and the other mutants stared in surprise at the empty space that had formerly held the highest-ranking Xindi.
"Damn!" Malcolm growled. "Matter transporter. Figures their captain would have an out."
Jon sank down in his chair, weary from head to toe.
"A message incoming from the Xindi ship," T'Pol said, her voice an oasis of calm.
Looking automatically for Hoshi at her station, Jon caught himself. "Let's see it."
"Audio only, Captain."
A hissing sound filled the bridge until T'Pol had compensated. "Humans. You may think you have won, but you are wrong. We will be back again and again until your entire species is destroyed."
Silence, punctured only by the sounds of a repair crew.
"Ah, that's what they always say," Scott said.
All eyes turned to stare at him, disbelief on every face until they saw the small grin. Despite himself, Jon snorted out a laugh. Kitty and Bobby laughed so hard they had to sit down, their humor tinged with hysteria and adrenaline. Gradually, everyone else joined in, except T'Pol who steadfastly ignored them.
Jon looked around the conference room table at his senior staff. "Concerns?"
"They're dangerous, Captain," Malcolm said with a frown. "More dangerous than we'd guessed."
"They saved the ship!" Hoshi glared at Malcolm. "They risked their lives to protect us."
T'Pol looked up from her padd. "They acted to protect themselves as well, Ensign."
"Their actions don't necessarily prove anything," Trip said with a sigh.
With all due respect, sir, I must disagree." Travis lifted his chin. "They could have taken our ship before this. They could have hidden and waited for us to retake the ship. They put themselves in danger to save the lives of our crew."
Jon nodded slowly. "I think they have redeemed the trust I placed in them."
"I agree," Malcolm said.
There was a long pause as every head turned to stare at him. Even T'Pol's eyes widened slightly.
"What did you say?" Trip asked, each word distinct and the expression on his face displaying a clear message: Who are you and what have you done with Malcolm Reed?
Malcolm's eyebrows rose and he seemed puzzled as he looked around the room. "I only said they were dangerous. I didn't say they couldn't be trusted."
Jon felt his lips twitch and he tried not to laugh aloud. Trip shook his head in disgust and T'Pol had her 'I will never understand humans' face on.
"Well, then," Jon said, "other concerns?" He looked at Trip and T'Pol.
Trip shrugged. "I think they're okay, Cap'n. They came by accident, far as we can tell."
"T'Pol?"
"It would not be logical for me to overrule Mr. Reed's professional opinion," she said.
"Not the most ringing endorsement I've ever heard," Jon said.
"Captain?"
"Never mind. Hoshi, any luck in contacting Admiral Forrest?"
"No, sir. Too much interference."
"Okay. They don't get total access to the ship, but we'll remove some of the restrictions. Access to the armory and engineering should be under supervision."
Nods around the table and Jon took a breath. "Back to work, everyone. We've still got Xindi to track."
Jon found all four mutants in the mess hall. They looked up as he approached, expressions revealing--Logan fiercely protective, Kitty worried, Bobby frightened but trying to look tough, and Summers, even his blank face had cracked slightly to show concern.
"Join me in the captain's dining room?"
The kids still looked worried, but Logan and Summers relaxed at the phrasing of a question rather than an order. No question those two were sharp.
Everyone settled around the table and Jon sat at the end, choosing his words with care. "Let me begin by allaying any fears you might have. We have not changed our minds about offering you safe harbor."
"Thank you," Summers said. "As you can imagine, we were concerned."
"I understand. Knowing what you four can do and seeing it, well, they're too different things." Jon looked at the ceiling. "I think I also see why people on your world are so worried."
Logan snorted and Summers shot him an indecipherable look.
"But we helped," Kitty said, looking at the adults for reassurance.
Jon sighed. "I know, but it's a question of human nature--no pun intended."
Bobby choked back a snort of laughter and Logan grinned at him.
"I don't get it." Kitty's voice was very small.
Jon looked at Summers and Logan, neither of whom looked inclined to answer. "It's hard," he said, feeling his way, "for most people to believe that you wouldn't use your abilities to do wrong."
"That's not fair!"
"I know," Jon said.
"How do we convince them?" Bobby asked.
Summers looked at the boy. "We keep doing what we've been doing. We set an example. We fight the legislation as it comes. We stop Magneto."
The kids seemed satisfied with that, but Logan looked away. For that matter, Jon thought, Summers didn't sound all that convinced by his own words. Although, with the death of his fiancée and the events he'd described, who would blame him?
"Captain?"
"Hmm?" He looked at Summers.
"How will your crew react to us? Should we be concerned?"
"Good question." Tapping his fingers on the table, Jon considered it with the seriousness it deserved. "There may be a few who avoid you, but my crew is unusual. We've been places and seen things most of humanity can't even imagine yet. I think your defense of this ship should be good enough for most. I think you'll find you're welcome here."
Logan looked about to say something, but Summers caught his attention. They didn't speak, but an entire conversation seemed to flash by. Jon glanced at Kitty and Bobby, but since they didn't look worried, he assumed it was normal behavior.
"Thank you," Summers said after a moment.
"If you have no other questions, I still have repairs to supervise."
"That was the most important thing," Summers said.
Rising from the table, Jon nodded at all four visitors. "I'm sorry your introduction to this century has been so stressful. I hope things calm down."
Scott was frustrated he couldn't do anything to help repair the ship, but one look at the innards of a bulkhead and he knew he was out of his league. He gravitated to sickbay, where he found, to his pleasure, that he could understand some of what went on there.
"Medical technology has evolved," Phlox said as he showed Scott how to use a dermal regenerator, "but the basic principles remain the same. You'll do fine."
Logan was off guarding the prisoners and trading war stories, and Hoshi had taken the kids off to wind down. But Scott couldn't quite relax, so he scanned and set bones and cleaned wounds. Finally, the last patient was healed and either sent to their quarters or bedded down in sickbay. Phlox cleaned his hands, looking pleased, and Scott leaned against a wall, yawning.
"My fiancée was a doctor," he said, staring at the opposite wall with its hypnotic display of twisting and twining DNA strands.
"Oh?"
"She was brilliant, she was learning all about mutations, but she was always ready to stop and put a bandage on one of the kids." His face felt like it was on fire and when he looked over, Phlox was waiting. "Jean would have loved to talk to you about medicine, see your equipment."
Phlox smiled.
Why did he feel the need to talk about her now? Since her death, he'd barely said her name, but there was something freeing about this place where only his three teammates knew her, and the locals didn't feel any guilt over her death.
"I miss Jean so much," he said quietly.
Phlox nodded. "If one of my wives died, I would be saddened. As it is, being without them is the hardest thing about being on the Enterprise."
Distracted, Scott had to wonder if he'd heard correctly. "Wives?"
"Yes, I have three. Each of whom have other husbands, so at least they are not lonely while I'm gone. It is really a most sensible system."
"I'm...sure." For a moment, Scott had a dizzying vision of being married to Ororo and Jean and another woman, who were also married to Logan and...
That was when his brain imploded and he shook his head.
"But it's not for every species," Phlox added.
"Mmmm."
Silence fell again, broken only by the background hum of the machines attached to each bed. Scott crossed his arms and watched the rise and fall of the nearest crewman's chest. He felt close to Jean here, in this place of healing she would have enjoyed so much.
Battle over and repairs underway, Jon indulged himself. Late in ship's night, when the mess hall was mostly empty, he sipped a glass of whiskey, staring at the stars streaming by. Certainly, he could have done so in his quarters or the captain's mess, but he'd developed this habit early on and kept on with it. Somehow, drinking in public wasn't quite as depressing as drinking in private, even if nobody was drinking with him.
Perhaps the logic was a bit circular, but it worked well enough.
Jon stared into his glass, trying to sort through everything that had happened recently. The liquid held just as few answers as always.
Another Xindi attack. Thankfully, there'd been no new deaths, but there were some serious injuries. Trip was alive, no thanks to anything he'd done. If not for their visitors, there was no telling if Malcolm would have arrived in time.
What the hell were they doing out here anyway? They were turning into creatures just as bad as the Xindi. Hell, who was he kidding? He was turning into someone just as bad as the Xindi. Could they ever return to Earth? What would the rest of the world think of whatever they had to do to make the mission succeed?
What was happening to them?
Behind him, the hiss of the opening door surprised him. He craned his head, eyebrows going up when he saw Logan paused in the doorway, looking hesitant.
"Captain."
"Logan." Jon glanced at his bottle. "Join me?"
That netted him a slight grin as Logan snagged a glass and sat down across the small table from him. Jon poured a good-sized slosh in and Logan nodded his thanks, leaning back.
"Good stuff," he said after tasting it.
"I figured if I was lugging it this far, it'd better be good."
Logan grunted and settled back in his chair, staring out at the stars, his expression nearly as unreadable as his leader's.
Jon went back to sipping, watching Logan out of the corner of his eye. It was odd to sit so comfortably with him, even as part of his brain screamed that the man was incredibly dangerous.
Summers hadn't said that much about Logan, other than mentioning his healing ability and how the government had coated his bones in some kind of metal which had Trip and T'Pol spending hours poring over samples. Malcolm agreed with Jon's assessment that Logan was ex-military and had been trained as a killer, possibly even some kind of special forces. The MACOs showed him the kind of deference that Malcolm would have appreciated receiving, so presumably they knew something everyone else didn't.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that Summers and Logan didn't like each other one bit; nevertheless, Logan followed Summers, equally obviously respecting him as a leader, and Summers trusted Logan on his team, giving him assignments and assuming they'd be done.
Logan was a killer. Or at least he had been.
Summers had to know that. Professor Xavier, the telepath, had to know that. But Logan was still a part of the team, and a trusted one if he'd been sent as one of two adults to recruit a new student to the school.
Logan had found his place, even after doing...whatever it was he'd done. For whatever reason, he'd dedicated himself to Xavier's attempts at peaceful coexistence and he'd been accepted.
"Something wrong?" Logan glanced at him over the rim of the glass.
Jon shook his head. "Just thinking."
"I figured you were drinking in order to stop thinking for a while."
"Yeah." Jon poured himself another few fingers. "I guess I was."
Logan studied him for a second and then went back to staring out at the stars. "Don't think, then."
"Is it that easy?"
"Sometimes."
"Then I'll try."
Jon sipped the whiskey and tried not to think about anything. Except maybe that there was hope for Enterprise's crew after all.
The kids settled into shipboard routine with ease and Scott was amazed, as always, by how adaptable his students were. Kitty became the darling of the comm crew, who taught her linguistics and electronics. She could nearly always be found with her head bent over a console while someone showed her some new trick or technique.
Scott made a mental note to get her more computer training if--when--they got home.
Bobby was nearly adopted by the engineering crew and spent much of his time climbing through the maintenance tunnels. He wasn't picking up quite as much engineering as Kitty was programming, but Scott was sure he was learning something--if only the importance of education.
Logan, of course, was an honorary marine, MACO, whatever, before their first full day was done. It had become a mutual admiration society down there, cemented by their joint love of a good scrap and dislike of one Malcolm Reed, chief armory officer.
The armory crew and the MACOs didn't seem to like each other very much, apparently all part of a turf war set off when the Enterprise's mission switched from peaceful exploration to near-war. And while Logan and Reed had come to some sort of understanding while fending off the attack, they hadn't precisely become best buddies.
Everyone else was settled in, but Scott found himself at a loss. What was a math teacher and leader of a team of mutants supposed to do on a Starfleet ship? He often ate with the captain and they had many an illuminating conversation about the nature of leadership. Sometimes Sub-commander T'Pol allowed him to observe her work, and that was probably his favorite thing; he'd always enjoyed astronomy and now he was seeing up close and personal things he'd only read about in Sky and Telescope.
But he couldn't follow either of them around like a puppy, so he found himself spending more and more time reading--Earth history, Vulcan history, whatever he could dig up in the computer.
Leaning back in the seat in his temporary quarters, he glanced at the time. Reed would be getting off duty soon, so it was probably a good time to take off. Although their initial dislike had faded, they weren't exactly comfortable with each other either. When was the last time he'd eaten, anyway?
Not for the first time, Scott found himself uncomfortable with the total separation from the natural cycles of day and night on Earth. He shrugged. Probably a result of his mutation's connection to sunlight, he supposed, and why he felt better when undergoing his doctor-mandated UV therapy.
Closing down the latest article on Khan Noonien Singh, he stretched, feeling his back pop, then wandered to the mess hall.
He sat in a corner, toying with a plate of spaghetti. Various crewmembers nodded to him as they ducked in for a cup of coffee or a sandwich, but seemed to sense his desire to be alone. They probably had a great deal of practice at figuring that out about their crewmates.
Two figures came in, not paying attention to their surroundings, and hovered over the desserts for several minutes before making their selection. Kitty grinned up at Hoshi, saying something that Scott didn't catch.
Plates in hand, they sat down, still oblivious, and talked. Scott smiled as he watched them, happy to see Kitty with a female role model. Those were in short supply at the school.
He only caught occasional words, but they seemed to be covering a wide variety of topics, from boys to nanotechnology, best friends to electronics. Other crewwomen stopped now and then to talk to them, weighing in on the topic at hand.
So engrossed was Scott, he failed to notice the figure approaching him, until someone spoke.
"Mr. Summers?"
"Hmm?" He looked up to find Sub-commander T'Pol, holding a cup of tea. "Oh, hello. Would you care to join me?"
"Thank you." She sat, the steaming mug emitting a vaguely familiar scent.
Scott took a bite of his spaghetti, finding himself oddly comfortable with this alien woman--probably because he knew she wasn't bothered by silence. That was hard to find.
T'Pol surprised him. "May I ask you a question?"
"Certainly." Scott found himself intrigued what question she might have that couldn't be asked while researching their arrival and his mutation.
"It is difficult to find the right phrasing." She sipped her tea, then looked him in the eye. "I am curious about your shielding and where you acquired it."
For a moment, Scott had a vision of body armor, before he realized what she meant. "Oh! You mean my mental shields."
"Yes." T'Pol inclined her head. "It is not common knowledge, but Vulcans have some telepathic abilities."
From the way she said it, Scott got the idea 'not common knowledge' meant something more like 'state secret.' "Not the kind of thing everyone needs to know, I would think."
She nodded. "Yes. I have noticed that your students have rudimentary shields better than many on Enterprise, your other teammate's shielding is erratic but strong, and yours is...exemplary. This was unexpected."
Scott looked down at his plate, remembering hours spent training with Jean and the Professor, games they would play to teach him to keep them out when they weren't wanted. "Professor Xavier is an extremely strong telepath and my fiancée was...a telepath and telekinetic."
"I was not aware of that."
"I've trained for years to keep up shields at all times, both to protect from an enemy and also for their comfort. We teach the children the same."
"As we do on Vulcan. It is restful to encounter humans who do not intrude upon my mind."
He smiled, stirring the spaghetti. "Jean--my fiancée--used to say similar things. She loved coming back to the school because it might be noisier to her ears, but it was quieter to her mind."
"I understand." T'Pol sipped her tea. "The noise can be overwhelming on occasion, even through my own shields."
Scott nodded, wondering what Jean would have made of T'Pol. He rather thought she'd have liked her.
--continued in part 4--
He removed his glasses and put on his visor--not the most comfortable thing to sleep in, but less likely to slip off and cause him to put a hole in the ship. Too bad he hadn't been carrying his night goggles along with glasses and visor.
Perhaps the engineers could make something...make something comfortable, so he could sleep. Sleep.
Scott slept.
When the blaring alarm startled Scott out of restless sleep, his first instinct was to reach for the visor on his nightstand. A flailing hand met nothing but air and his eyes shot open when he realized he was already wearing the visor.
"Jean, what's happ--" Like a kick to the groin, memories hit him, leaving nausea in their wake. No Jean. No school. Outer space.
Reed wasn't there. The alarm obviously meant something serious was happening, but Scott was reluctant to dash out without a better idea what had gone wrong.
He tried the communication system, but it was shut down, and the computer didn't allow him sufficient access, leaving reconnaissance the only option.
Breathing deeply, he hit the button to open the door but nothing happened. Curiouser and curiouser. He could blast through it, he was certain, but that might be fatal to whoever was on the other side, friend or foe.
Had the captain found some reason to distrust him? Were guards on their way? Or was some outside force at work? He cursed the impulse that allowed his team to separate. They should have slept in the brig if necessary. How the hell was he supposed to protect them if he didn't even know where they were?
A sound behind him and he whirled, hand to his visor. Kitty scrambled through the wall, holding onto the comm officer, Ensign Sato, whose eyes were wide. "Mr. Summers!"
"What's going on?"
"The ship's been boarded by Xindi," Sato said, breathing hard. "Captain Archer managed to comm a few of us before the bridge was taken. He, the first officer, and the chief engineer were all there. Lieutenant Reed is somewhere down in the armory, but we got cut off when the intruders took out the comms."
"Can you find Bobby and Logan and get us to the armory? We can't do much good from here."
Sato nodded after a sharp glance at him, but she seemed willing to accept his leadership. "Bobby's no problem since he's probably in Michael's quarters, but Logan's with the MACOs and they could be any number of places."
"Okay, only Bobby then. Logan can take care of himself anyway."
"Then let's go."
"Ready?" He looked and Kitty and she nodded, taking their hands. "Which way?"
Sato thought for a second and pointed.
With a feeling that he could see the molecular structure of the ship's walls, Scott followed the two women, trying to remember what little he'd seen of the ship's layout and weaponry.
When they dropped through the ceiling into Rostov's quarters, they found Bobby pacing back and forth. His face lit up. "There you are! Michael left for engineering a few minutes ago, then the alarm went off."
"Grab hold," Scott said, and with that they were on their way again.
The sound of energy weapons was incredibly noisy in the confined quarters of the ship--a whine like a million mosquitos and crickets combined with the shouts of the ship's human defenders. With instincts that Scott was pleased to see, Kitty dragged them sideways into a room. The startled occupant looked up from an open panel. "Hoshi?"
Sato grinned. "Hey, Alison. Would you like a lift to the armory?"
Grinning fiercely in return, she jumped up and took Bobby's hand. "Hey, even we engineers can shoot if we have to. I was getting ready to take a chance on the conduits, but I think I like your way better."
They plunged through a dizzying series of walls, corridors, and floors. Scott let his spatial sense map out their path while he kept an eye on Kitty; he was worried she'd tire, but adrenaline kept her bright-eyed and energetic.
Through another gray wall and Sato grinned. "Straight down, but be ready for Malcolm to shoot at us." And they were sinking, dropping to the floor of the armory, where ten weapons were instantly trained on them.
"Freeze," Reed shouted.
"We're here to help," Sato said.
"Them?" He stared.
"Yes, them."
Reed seemed about to refuse, but one of the marines stepped forward. "Lieutenant, it'd be mighty handy to have a girl who can walk through walls and a guy with laser eyes."
Scott decided this might not be the best time to correct misconceptions about his mutation.
"Major Hawkins is right," another marine said. "After all, Logan's been damn helpful so far."
"Logan? Where is he?" Scott looked around the room, but saw only grim-faced marines and other members of the crew.
"He and a couple of the guys are doing a little scouting around engineering. Lieutenant, he got hit by that Xindi weapon and got right back up!"
A small access point at the far end of the room swung open and the weapons turned that way, relaxing when Logan and several soldiers jumped out.
"What's the situation?" Reed asked.
"Engineering's locked down. The bastards haven't gotten in yet, but they're getting close." The soldier continued to give his report and Logan trotted over to Scott.
"Ugly," he said, a snarl hovering on his lips. "But they die when you cut them."
Scott nodded, already tuning in to the conversation. Reed had a map of the ship up, pointing out where he wanted troops to go. Sighing at the necessity, Scott called, "What about us?"
Reed twisted halfway around. "I want you to stay out of this."
Scott had already picked out his target and with a quick flick of his visor, he blasted a stool halfway across the room, people leaping out of its way. "I can do a lot more than that. Let me help."
"Let us help," Bobby said.
Scott shot him a look, and was about to tell him no, but from the look on his face and Kitty's, that would be a struggle he'd lose, along with valuable time.
He couldn't call Reed indecisive either. "Fine, you're all with me. Gomez, Chen, join Hawkins. The rest of you know what to do. Go."
"What are we doing?" Kitty asked.
Reed looked at her and looked at Scott. "If you're sure..."
Bobby stood up straight and tried to look like an adult. "We're not waiting here!"
Scott grinned quickly, a well of pride in his chest. "But I want the two of you to stay intangible as much as possible, okay?" They nodded and he looked at Reed. "They're with us."
"Good, then we're going to take back the bridge. I've spent a lot of time training Captain Archer. I'd hate for it to go to waste."
The deck was cold under Jon's knees as he knelt, but not nearly as cold as his anger at the reptilian Xindi who sat in his chair, his splotchy, bumpy face contorted into an amused snarl. The Xindi who'd casually backhanded Trip into a bulkhead when he'd refused to lock down the ship's doors. The one who'd shot Ensign Tanner from the armory, who'd tried to defend the bridge.
From where he knelt, a hard hand against the back of his neck, Jon was pretty sure he could see both Trip and Tanner breathing. Elsewhere, he knew the crew was fighting, because the reports coming in to the Xindi commander said so. His eyes widened at the reports of a man with claws. Jon hoped the visitors from another Earth weren't going to get themselves killed in his fight.
"I have not been able to break the final codes," the Xindi at the science console said.
"Then perhaps," the commander said, "It is time we convinced these humans to help." He stepped over to where Trip lay and lifted him up like a rag doll. "Would you miss this one? Or perhaps that one over there?" He pointed at T'Pol, whose face didn't change.
Breathing gone shallow, Jon couldn't respond, couldn't move. He had to wait, to stall, but his mind was blank. Hurry, Malcolm, he thought.
Reed eyed the mutants as the rest of the security team dispersed. Scott could detect a hint of amusement when all of them studied him back.
Reed tapped a few commands into a handheld device. "We'll use your ability to go through walls to put us right behind the bridge. These are the schematics."
Scott held the display so the other three could see.
"Here's what we're going to do..."
Trip's head lolled forward, a puppet held by a malevolent puppeteer. Short sharp breaths escaped Jon as he stared at his friend. T'Pol was silent, but he knew what she or Trip would be telling him.
There was no possible response to the Xindi, so he stared at the commander, despair burning his heart. He wanted to close his eyes but that would be a betrayal. He held his breath as the Xindi growled, holding a weapon to Trip's head.
The bridge seemed to explode with simultaneous action. A thin, red beam smashed into the weapon pointed at Trip's head, followed by one that threw the Xindi and Trip against the wall. Before anyone could respond, Malcolm was there, shooting Xindi with surgical precision.
Two hapless Xindi standing in front of the captain's chair were practically skewered by Logan, claws out and a full-throated roar coming from his chest.
Struggling upright, the Xindi commander reached for another weapon strapped to his chest, but before it cleared its casing, it was covered in a thick layer of ice.
Dazed, Jon watched Kitty blithely running through weapons aimed at her, which then refused to fire. Streams of ice flew from Bobby's hand to smash a Xindi who tried to attack with just his hands.
It was all over so fast he barely had time to catch his breath. While Scott and Bobby kept an eye on the unconscious Xindi, Malcolm hurried over to him, glancing down at the manacles that held his wrists. "Logan?"
The sound of metal grating on metal, and one claw came out of the man's knuckles. More delicately than Jon might have imagined, Logan used the claw to slice off his handcuffs.
Over Malcolm's shoulder, Jon could see Trip slowly sitting up with Kitty's assistance. She dabbed at several wounds, but Jon saw none that looked especially serious.
From that point, retaking the ship was almost anticlimactic. Before Jon was even standing upright, Malcolm and T'Pol were receiving reports from all over the ship. "Sir, engineering has been secured by my team."
"Good."
"There's still a great deal of hand-to-hand combat in the corridors, but we've got them on the run." Malcolm snapped several orders into a communicator and Jon took the opportunity to turn toward the visitors, who were standing guard over the Xindi that had been on the bridge.
"Thank you," he said to Summers.
"It's not done," Logan said. "They're still out there."
Summers looked at Jon, his expression long-suffering. "Captain, with your permission, I think my associate here would like to go hit some more Xindi."
Jon glanced at Malcolm, who nodded. "Far be it from me to prevent someone from hitting Xindi on my ship."
Logan and Malcolm went into a huddle over a map and Jon turned to T'Pol. "Sub-commander?"
"I am well, Captain. There is some damage to sensors, but I believe I am detecting approximately 50 Xindi on Enterprise and another 100 on their own ship."
"We've neutralized at least 40 of those that are here," Malcolm said as Logan dropped into a Jeffries tube toward the lower decks.
"What next, Malcolm?"
"Sir, we should--" His eyes snapped back to the display in front of him. "They're retreating."
Everyone looked up from their tasks.
"Good," Jon said, sighing. "Right now that's good enough. Get our people out of their way. I don't want anyone killed while the enemy is leaving."
"Aye, sir."
Malcolm issued quiet orders and Jon turned to T'Pol. "Get me a damage report as soon as possible. And get someone up here to guard these pris--"
A yelp from Kitty made Jon's heart jump as he whirled. She and the other mutants stared in surprise at the empty space that had formerly held the highest-ranking Xindi.
"Damn!" Malcolm growled. "Matter transporter. Figures their captain would have an out."
Jon sank down in his chair, weary from head to toe.
"A message incoming from the Xindi ship," T'Pol said, her voice an oasis of calm.
Looking automatically for Hoshi at her station, Jon caught himself. "Let's see it."
"Audio only, Captain."
A hissing sound filled the bridge until T'Pol had compensated. "Humans. You may think you have won, but you are wrong. We will be back again and again until your entire species is destroyed."
Silence, punctured only by the sounds of a repair crew.
"Ah, that's what they always say," Scott said.
All eyes turned to stare at him, disbelief on every face until they saw the small grin. Despite himself, Jon snorted out a laugh. Kitty and Bobby laughed so hard they had to sit down, their humor tinged with hysteria and adrenaline. Gradually, everyone else joined in, except T'Pol who steadfastly ignored them.
Jon looked around the conference room table at his senior staff. "Concerns?"
"They're dangerous, Captain," Malcolm said with a frown. "More dangerous than we'd guessed."
"They saved the ship!" Hoshi glared at Malcolm. "They risked their lives to protect us."
T'Pol looked up from her padd. "They acted to protect themselves as well, Ensign."
"Their actions don't necessarily prove anything," Trip said with a sigh.
With all due respect, sir, I must disagree." Travis lifted his chin. "They could have taken our ship before this. They could have hidden and waited for us to retake the ship. They put themselves in danger to save the lives of our crew."
Jon nodded slowly. "I think they have redeemed the trust I placed in them."
"I agree," Malcolm said.
There was a long pause as every head turned to stare at him. Even T'Pol's eyes widened slightly.
"What did you say?" Trip asked, each word distinct and the expression on his face displaying a clear message: Who are you and what have you done with Malcolm Reed?
Malcolm's eyebrows rose and he seemed puzzled as he looked around the room. "I only said they were dangerous. I didn't say they couldn't be trusted."
Jon felt his lips twitch and he tried not to laugh aloud. Trip shook his head in disgust and T'Pol had her 'I will never understand humans' face on.
"Well, then," Jon said, "other concerns?" He looked at Trip and T'Pol.
Trip shrugged. "I think they're okay, Cap'n. They came by accident, far as we can tell."
"T'Pol?"
"It would not be logical for me to overrule Mr. Reed's professional opinion," she said.
"Not the most ringing endorsement I've ever heard," Jon said.
"Captain?"
"Never mind. Hoshi, any luck in contacting Admiral Forrest?"
"No, sir. Too much interference."
"Okay. They don't get total access to the ship, but we'll remove some of the restrictions. Access to the armory and engineering should be under supervision."
Nods around the table and Jon took a breath. "Back to work, everyone. We've still got Xindi to track."
Jon found all four mutants in the mess hall. They looked up as he approached, expressions revealing--Logan fiercely protective, Kitty worried, Bobby frightened but trying to look tough, and Summers, even his blank face had cracked slightly to show concern.
"Join me in the captain's dining room?"
The kids still looked worried, but Logan and Summers relaxed at the phrasing of a question rather than an order. No question those two were sharp.
Everyone settled around the table and Jon sat at the end, choosing his words with care. "Let me begin by allaying any fears you might have. We have not changed our minds about offering you safe harbor."
"Thank you," Summers said. "As you can imagine, we were concerned."
"I understand. Knowing what you four can do and seeing it, well, they're too different things." Jon looked at the ceiling. "I think I also see why people on your world are so worried."
Logan snorted and Summers shot him an indecipherable look.
"But we helped," Kitty said, looking at the adults for reassurance.
Jon sighed. "I know, but it's a question of human nature--no pun intended."
Bobby choked back a snort of laughter and Logan grinned at him.
"I don't get it." Kitty's voice was very small.
Jon looked at Summers and Logan, neither of whom looked inclined to answer. "It's hard," he said, feeling his way, "for most people to believe that you wouldn't use your abilities to do wrong."
"That's not fair!"
"I know," Jon said.
"How do we convince them?" Bobby asked.
Summers looked at the boy. "We keep doing what we've been doing. We set an example. We fight the legislation as it comes. We stop Magneto."
The kids seemed satisfied with that, but Logan looked away. For that matter, Jon thought, Summers didn't sound all that convinced by his own words. Although, with the death of his fiancée and the events he'd described, who would blame him?
"Captain?"
"Hmm?" He looked at Summers.
"How will your crew react to us? Should we be concerned?"
"Good question." Tapping his fingers on the table, Jon considered it with the seriousness it deserved. "There may be a few who avoid you, but my crew is unusual. We've been places and seen things most of humanity can't even imagine yet. I think your defense of this ship should be good enough for most. I think you'll find you're welcome here."
Logan looked about to say something, but Summers caught his attention. They didn't speak, but an entire conversation seemed to flash by. Jon glanced at Kitty and Bobby, but since they didn't look worried, he assumed it was normal behavior.
"Thank you," Summers said after a moment.
"If you have no other questions, I still have repairs to supervise."
"That was the most important thing," Summers said.
Rising from the table, Jon nodded at all four visitors. "I'm sorry your introduction to this century has been so stressful. I hope things calm down."
Scott was frustrated he couldn't do anything to help repair the ship, but one look at the innards of a bulkhead and he knew he was out of his league. He gravitated to sickbay, where he found, to his pleasure, that he could understand some of what went on there.
"Medical technology has evolved," Phlox said as he showed Scott how to use a dermal regenerator, "but the basic principles remain the same. You'll do fine."
Logan was off guarding the prisoners and trading war stories, and Hoshi had taken the kids off to wind down. But Scott couldn't quite relax, so he scanned and set bones and cleaned wounds. Finally, the last patient was healed and either sent to their quarters or bedded down in sickbay. Phlox cleaned his hands, looking pleased, and Scott leaned against a wall, yawning.
"My fiancée was a doctor," he said, staring at the opposite wall with its hypnotic display of twisting and twining DNA strands.
"Oh?"
"She was brilliant, she was learning all about mutations, but she was always ready to stop and put a bandage on one of the kids." His face felt like it was on fire and when he looked over, Phlox was waiting. "Jean would have loved to talk to you about medicine, see your equipment."
Phlox smiled.
Why did he feel the need to talk about her now? Since her death, he'd barely said her name, but there was something freeing about this place where only his three teammates knew her, and the locals didn't feel any guilt over her death.
"I miss Jean so much," he said quietly.
Phlox nodded. "If one of my wives died, I would be saddened. As it is, being without them is the hardest thing about being on the Enterprise."
Distracted, Scott had to wonder if he'd heard correctly. "Wives?"
"Yes, I have three. Each of whom have other husbands, so at least they are not lonely while I'm gone. It is really a most sensible system."
"I'm...sure." For a moment, Scott had a dizzying vision of being married to Ororo and Jean and another woman, who were also married to Logan and...
That was when his brain imploded and he shook his head.
"But it's not for every species," Phlox added.
"Mmmm."
Silence fell again, broken only by the background hum of the machines attached to each bed. Scott crossed his arms and watched the rise and fall of the nearest crewman's chest. He felt close to Jean here, in this place of healing she would have enjoyed so much.
Battle over and repairs underway, Jon indulged himself. Late in ship's night, when the mess hall was mostly empty, he sipped a glass of whiskey, staring at the stars streaming by. Certainly, he could have done so in his quarters or the captain's mess, but he'd developed this habit early on and kept on with it. Somehow, drinking in public wasn't quite as depressing as drinking in private, even if nobody was drinking with him.
Perhaps the logic was a bit circular, but it worked well enough.
Jon stared into his glass, trying to sort through everything that had happened recently. The liquid held just as few answers as always.
Another Xindi attack. Thankfully, there'd been no new deaths, but there were some serious injuries. Trip was alive, no thanks to anything he'd done. If not for their visitors, there was no telling if Malcolm would have arrived in time.
What the hell were they doing out here anyway? They were turning into creatures just as bad as the Xindi. Hell, who was he kidding? He was turning into someone just as bad as the Xindi. Could they ever return to Earth? What would the rest of the world think of whatever they had to do to make the mission succeed?
What was happening to them?
Behind him, the hiss of the opening door surprised him. He craned his head, eyebrows going up when he saw Logan paused in the doorway, looking hesitant.
"Captain."
"Logan." Jon glanced at his bottle. "Join me?"
That netted him a slight grin as Logan snagged a glass and sat down across the small table from him. Jon poured a good-sized slosh in and Logan nodded his thanks, leaning back.
"Good stuff," he said after tasting it.
"I figured if I was lugging it this far, it'd better be good."
Logan grunted and settled back in his chair, staring out at the stars, his expression nearly as unreadable as his leader's.
Jon went back to sipping, watching Logan out of the corner of his eye. It was odd to sit so comfortably with him, even as part of his brain screamed that the man was incredibly dangerous.
Summers hadn't said that much about Logan, other than mentioning his healing ability and how the government had coated his bones in some kind of metal which had Trip and T'Pol spending hours poring over samples. Malcolm agreed with Jon's assessment that Logan was ex-military and had been trained as a killer, possibly even some kind of special forces. The MACOs showed him the kind of deference that Malcolm would have appreciated receiving, so presumably they knew something everyone else didn't.
It was obvious to anyone with eyes or ears that Summers and Logan didn't like each other one bit; nevertheless, Logan followed Summers, equally obviously respecting him as a leader, and Summers trusted Logan on his team, giving him assignments and assuming they'd be done.
Logan was a killer. Or at least he had been.
Summers had to know that. Professor Xavier, the telepath, had to know that. But Logan was still a part of the team, and a trusted one if he'd been sent as one of two adults to recruit a new student to the school.
Logan had found his place, even after doing...whatever it was he'd done. For whatever reason, he'd dedicated himself to Xavier's attempts at peaceful coexistence and he'd been accepted.
"Something wrong?" Logan glanced at him over the rim of the glass.
Jon shook his head. "Just thinking."
"I figured you were drinking in order to stop thinking for a while."
"Yeah." Jon poured himself another few fingers. "I guess I was."
Logan studied him for a second and then went back to staring out at the stars. "Don't think, then."
"Is it that easy?"
"Sometimes."
"Then I'll try."
Jon sipped the whiskey and tried not to think about anything. Except maybe that there was hope for Enterprise's crew after all.
The kids settled into shipboard routine with ease and Scott was amazed, as always, by how adaptable his students were. Kitty became the darling of the comm crew, who taught her linguistics and electronics. She could nearly always be found with her head bent over a console while someone showed her some new trick or technique.
Scott made a mental note to get her more computer training if--when--they got home.
Bobby was nearly adopted by the engineering crew and spent much of his time climbing through the maintenance tunnels. He wasn't picking up quite as much engineering as Kitty was programming, but Scott was sure he was learning something--if only the importance of education.
Logan, of course, was an honorary marine, MACO, whatever, before their first full day was done. It had become a mutual admiration society down there, cemented by their joint love of a good scrap and dislike of one Malcolm Reed, chief armory officer.
The armory crew and the MACOs didn't seem to like each other very much, apparently all part of a turf war set off when the Enterprise's mission switched from peaceful exploration to near-war. And while Logan and Reed had come to some sort of understanding while fending off the attack, they hadn't precisely become best buddies.
Everyone else was settled in, but Scott found himself at a loss. What was a math teacher and leader of a team of mutants supposed to do on a Starfleet ship? He often ate with the captain and they had many an illuminating conversation about the nature of leadership. Sometimes Sub-commander T'Pol allowed him to observe her work, and that was probably his favorite thing; he'd always enjoyed astronomy and now he was seeing up close and personal things he'd only read about in Sky and Telescope.
But he couldn't follow either of them around like a puppy, so he found himself spending more and more time reading--Earth history, Vulcan history, whatever he could dig up in the computer.
Leaning back in the seat in his temporary quarters, he glanced at the time. Reed would be getting off duty soon, so it was probably a good time to take off. Although their initial dislike had faded, they weren't exactly comfortable with each other either. When was the last time he'd eaten, anyway?
Not for the first time, Scott found himself uncomfortable with the total separation from the natural cycles of day and night on Earth. He shrugged. Probably a result of his mutation's connection to sunlight, he supposed, and why he felt better when undergoing his doctor-mandated UV therapy.
Closing down the latest article on Khan Noonien Singh, he stretched, feeling his back pop, then wandered to the mess hall.
He sat in a corner, toying with a plate of spaghetti. Various crewmembers nodded to him as they ducked in for a cup of coffee or a sandwich, but seemed to sense his desire to be alone. They probably had a great deal of practice at figuring that out about their crewmates.
Two figures came in, not paying attention to their surroundings, and hovered over the desserts for several minutes before making their selection. Kitty grinned up at Hoshi, saying something that Scott didn't catch.
Plates in hand, they sat down, still oblivious, and talked. Scott smiled as he watched them, happy to see Kitty with a female role model. Those were in short supply at the school.
He only caught occasional words, but they seemed to be covering a wide variety of topics, from boys to nanotechnology, best friends to electronics. Other crewwomen stopped now and then to talk to them, weighing in on the topic at hand.
So engrossed was Scott, he failed to notice the figure approaching him, until someone spoke.
"Mr. Summers?"
"Hmm?" He looked up to find Sub-commander T'Pol, holding a cup of tea. "Oh, hello. Would you care to join me?"
"Thank you." She sat, the steaming mug emitting a vaguely familiar scent.
Scott took a bite of his spaghetti, finding himself oddly comfortable with this alien woman--probably because he knew she wasn't bothered by silence. That was hard to find.
T'Pol surprised him. "May I ask you a question?"
"Certainly." Scott found himself intrigued what question she might have that couldn't be asked while researching their arrival and his mutation.
"It is difficult to find the right phrasing." She sipped her tea, then looked him in the eye. "I am curious about your shielding and where you acquired it."
For a moment, Scott had a vision of body armor, before he realized what she meant. "Oh! You mean my mental shields."
"Yes." T'Pol inclined her head. "It is not common knowledge, but Vulcans have some telepathic abilities."
From the way she said it, Scott got the idea 'not common knowledge' meant something more like 'state secret.' "Not the kind of thing everyone needs to know, I would think."
She nodded. "Yes. I have noticed that your students have rudimentary shields better than many on Enterprise, your other teammate's shielding is erratic but strong, and yours is...exemplary. This was unexpected."
Scott looked down at his plate, remembering hours spent training with Jean and the Professor, games they would play to teach him to keep them out when they weren't wanted. "Professor Xavier is an extremely strong telepath and my fiancée was...a telepath and telekinetic."
"I was not aware of that."
"I've trained for years to keep up shields at all times, both to protect from an enemy and also for their comfort. We teach the children the same."
"As we do on Vulcan. It is restful to encounter humans who do not intrude upon my mind."
He smiled, stirring the spaghetti. "Jean--my fiancée--used to say similar things. She loved coming back to the school because it might be noisier to her ears, but it was quieter to her mind."
"I understand." T'Pol sipped her tea. "The noise can be overwhelming on occasion, even through my own shields."
Scott nodded, wondering what Jean would have made of T'Pol. He rather thought she'd have liked her.
--continued in part 4--