Star Fleet Engineering Test Facility, Oakland
January 16, 2157
"Po t'fakte q'uo fi'lak mok'to." You look hot in that uniform, sailor.
Trip turned to find a familiar face peeking around the office door. "Hoshi!" Trip jumped from behind the desk to greet his favorite lieutenant.
"How was Armstrong?" he asked, dragging Hoshi through the door for a hug.
"Boring," Hoshi replied, rolling her eyes. "No new aliens to talk to. Just eighteen months of survey work for the Colonial Authority."
"You're complaining?" Trip poked Hoshi in the shoulder. "And look at you, a full lieutenant."
"That's me," Hoshi said with a grin. "High speed, low drag. Right up the promotion ladder. Ensign, j.g. and now lieutenant."
Trip steered Hoshi to a chair and sat on the edge of his desk. "How's Travis?"
"He's fine. He's still on board helping with the post-mission debrief." Hoshi leaned forward in her chair and poked an accusing finger at Trip. "The word on the grapevine is that you are going to be a daddy."
"Is that what you do with all that expensive comm gear? Gossip?" Trip said with a smile.
"Beats listening to stars hiss. So, is it true?"
"Yep," Trip said, puffing out his chest. "Two month ago. Another eight and T'Pol and I will be the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy."
"Eeeeeeeeee," Hoshi squealed in delight and leapt at Trip for another hug. "Congratulations! I am so happy for you two!"
"Thanks," Trip said, laughing.
"Where's T'Pol? I want to congratulate her, too," Hoshi added, still beaming.
"She's taking some time off before going back to the Admiralty," Trip said, a touch more seriously.
"Is everything alright?" Hoshi asked, suddenly equally serious.
Trip held his hands up. "No, no. Everything's fine with her and the baby. It's just that...they had to induce ovulation, and do some other things. She had a tough time at the start but she's doing a lot better now. She should be back at work in a couple of weeks."
Trip had a natural distrust of doctors, Phlox notwithstanding, and his experience on Vulcan hadn't changed his opinion. Academician V'Lor and her staff had done everything they'd claimed they could do. It was what they hadn't bothered to mention that still angered him.
Vulcan females can only become pregnant during pon farr. Except in this case there was no bonded Vulcan male to trigger T'Pol's fertility. The medical staff had been forced to use massive doses of hormones to fool T'Pol's body into accepting the fertilized ova.
It had been rough on T'Pol, physically and mentally. Without the psychic and pheromonal cues a Vulcan mate would provide, T'Pol's artificially induced pon farr lasted much longer than normal. What might have started as an adolescent's fantasy quickly palled as Trip watched his beloved wife suffer because he couldn't give her everything she needed.
If he had known what she would face, he would never have agreed to it. In fact, Trip suspected that T'Pol had deliberately kept him in the dark about that aspect of it. Her willingness to go through all that so they could have a child made Trip realize exactly how lucky he was to have her.
"So, are you doing all sorts of 'daddy' things, like picking out wallpaper for the nursery and stuff?" Hoshi asked, obviously relieved at Trip's assurance that everything was fine.
"Well...sorta," Trip answered with an embarrassed grin. "I bought some stuff during lunch," he said, pointing at a large bag in the corner.
Ever nosy, Hoshi pounced on the bag looking for treasures. "You're kidding me," she said, holding up a football.
"So?" Trip replied, a hint of challenge in his voice.
Shaking her head in amusement, Hoshi dropped the football back into the bag. "He's not even born yet."
"Do you realize how strong my kid is going to be?" Trip answered. He held up a garnet and gold data chip with the Florida State University logo embossed on it. "I defy you to find the word 'human' in any NCAA rule book."
"Un huh," Hoshi said, obviously unimpressed. "I think T'Pol is going to have something to say about that."
"I've got a few years to work on her," Trip said confidently.
Tucker/T'Pol Residence
January 16, 2157
Trip slipped quietly into the house, not wanting to disturb T'Pol if she was resting.
Passing the thermostat he checked the house's environmental systems. Thirty five degrees, ten percent relative humidity, air exchange on high - right where he'd set it this morning. T'Pol kept turning the temperature down to something a human would find comfortable, but he kept turning it back up to something approaching normal room temperature for a Vulcan.
Eventually he'd gotten tired of her stubbornness and put a security code on the thermostat. When she was fully recovered he'd take it off again, but until then he wanted her to be as comfortable as possible.
Tiptoeing into the study he found T'Pol seated at the computer.
"Pa t'quan ash'yam," he whispered in her ear. I am home, beloved.
"I heard you come in," she said, turning her head to receive a kiss. "Did you have a productive day?"
"Yep," Trip said. "Hoshi's back. She wants to come by and say hello when you're feeling better." Trip ran his hands along T'Pol's shoulders. It was an affectionate caress that also let him check how much weight she'd regained since their return from Vulcan.
"It will be pleasant to see her again. Have you scheduled a time for her to visit?"
"I told her to check back in a couple of weeks, when you're back at work." Trip flopped down in the chair next to the desk. "And how was your day?"
"Very productive," T'Pol said with just a hint of pride. "I completed all of the data assessments that accumulated during my absence, and programmed an additional series of tests for the linear warp field generator."
"Good," Trip said, happy that T'Pol was feeling up to tackling work again, even if it was just a little catch-up work from home.
"And the security code to the thermostat is three-five-two-two-six," she added without a trace of smugness.
Star Fleet Headquarters, San Francisco
March 18, 2157
"Magellan comes on line in five months, Captain. We want you to take her," Admiral Sarnow said over coffee in the senior officer's wardroom. He liked to give good news in an informal setting.
"Magellan?" Trip echoed, vainly trying to fight down a grin.
"Hull number NCC-34," Sarnow told him with his own smile. "Fast as sin, with a phase cannon big enough to punch a hole through Titan."
Trip paused for a moment, relishing the though of commanding one of the new, second generation starships. It was the pinnacle of any Star Fleet officer's career. Even Trip, an engineer to his very soul, secretly yearned to sit in the center seat.
At least, he thought he did.
"Admiral, I'm...honored," Trip said. "But with T'Pol and the baby coming, I can't be away for months, or even years."
Admiral Sarnow nodded. He had a wife and family of his own. He understood the sacrifices Star Fleet asked of its officers.
"It's not a problem, Trip," he told him reassuringly. "Magellan won't be out of the yards for another five months. Then another six to eight months doing work ups and getting everything calibrated. You won't go farther than Persephone for at least a year."
Trip stared into his coffee. "I'm sorry, Admiral. I have to respectfully decline," he said after a moment.
"Trip, you're a captain," Sarnow said. "If you ever want your own flag, you have to have a ship command in your jacket," he told Trip, referring to his personnel file.
"I never wanted to be an Admiral, sir." Trip said. "No offense."
"None taken," Sarnow chuckled. "But here's something for you to consider. Star Fleet is expanding, and there are a lot of bright young officers coming along." Sarnow leaned forward in his chair. "There's only so much room at the top, Trip. Get passed over for promotion a couple of times and they'll retire you."
Trip sighed. He hated these kinds of decisions, but this one was remarkably easy to make.
"There was a time, Admiral, when all I cared about were warp engines, going faster and farther, and pushing the envelope as far as it'd go..." Trip's voice trailed off as he searched for the right words.
"Rick," Trip said, using the Admiral's first name. "T'Pol'll live another hundred twenty, hundred forty years. I don't have that kind of time. I don't want her to have to spend one extra minute without me."
"The answer's no, Admiral."
Admiral Sarnow raised his mug in a toast. "Here's to your beautiful wife and baby. Maybe, just maybe, the only things worth giving up a command for," he said.
Tucker/T'Pol Residence
August 26, 2157
Trip walked through the front door after a long, exhausting day. He dropped his attaché by the stairs and leaned back against the door, enjoying the first peaceful moment he'd had all day. After several seconds the rumbling in his stomach and delicious smells coming from the kitchen roused him.
Stepping into the kitchen he noticed the food replicator was on standby and T'Pol was busily chopping something green and knobby. "Hey," Trip said, kissing T'Pol on the side of her neck while reaching around to rub her swollen abdomen. T'Pol reached up with her free hand to stroke his hair.
"You don't cook," he said, looking over her shoulder. "What's this?"
"The replicator will not produce Vulcan dishes," she reminded him. "The dietician at the consulate provided me with foodstuffs and instructions. I am attempting one of the simpler recipes."
"Gonna cook for the rug rat, huh?" Trip asked with a smile. T'Pol gave him a cold look.
"Please do not use that epithet to..." T'Pol put the knife on the counter and spun around, nostrils flaring.
"Who is she?" she demanded.
"Who's who?" Trip replied, bewildered at his wife's change in demeanor.
"The female whose perspiration is on you," T'Pol said, murder in her lovely brown eyes.
"I don't have anyone's perspiration on me," Trip answered, stepping back a little.
"You lie!" T'Pol said. "You reek of it!"
"Honey," Trip said soothingly, putting his hands gently on T'Pol's shoulders. "Remember what Dr.M'Vir told us? That you might be a little moody the last few weeks?"
"She did not say that." T'Pol declared. "She advised me to meditate more frequently to assist with the additional stresses of pregnancy."
"Un huh," Trip answered, agreeable to anything at the moment.
"You have not answered my question," T'Pol said with menace.
"Sweetheart, I was on Lancaster all day checking out the damage." Trip mentally snapped his fingers.
"The environmental systems were down and it was hot as hell. Master Chief Berger and I spent a couple of hours in the access tubes. Maybe she got some sweat on me then."
"Master Chief Berger. Your leading petty officer?" T'Pol asked.
"Yeah," Trip said, nodding emphatically.
T'Pol recalled meeting Chief Berger at a departmental party the previous year. While one of the best chief petty officers in Star Fleet, physically she was charitably considered plain. A few less kind souls wondered if she had any Klingon ancestors. Trip had privately confided to T'Pol that he thought she'd be a great weapon since her face could stop a warp engine.
As the heat of the moment passed, T'Pol found herself feeling very foolish. "I apologize for accusing you of infidelity," she said, unable to look Trip in the eye.
"It's ok, sweetheart," Trip said, hugging her to him and kissing her hair. "I know it's not easy right now."
Trip lifted T'Pol's chin and kissed the corner of her mouth. "You know I never look at another woman," he said. "Besides, Berger must be sixty years old..."
Trip made it out of the house just in time.
TBC