A/N: I would just like to point out that I am not an engineer. In fact, I know very little about science and math, and that is why I was an English major. So if the stuff that Trip talks about doesn't make sense, please don't hold that against me.
Day 17
Trip hated the observation deck. It was too literal; every time he ventured up there, he immediately became the favorite thing for all the Vulcans to look at. Sure, the view was spectacular – the other day they'd passed a nebula that bore remarkable similarities to the Northern Lights – but it unnerved him, the way the Vulcans unashamedly stared at him. He felt like he was in a giant tank at the aquarium. When he was in the company of T'Pol, which he usually was, they glared at him, their eyes full of condescension. As if he gave a rat's ass about their opinions. He wanted to avoid the entire deck, but T'Pol insisted that it might be better if they were to remain in common areas as much as possible, to alleviate any gossip that might be forming.
"Gee, T'Pol, I thought you said a relationship between the two of us wouldn't be anyone's concern," he had said, throwing her a wink.
"I believe I said it would not be Lieutenant Reed's concern," she had said, and the smile vanished from his face. "But this is an entirely different situation and we must amend our behavior accordingly."
He knew that meant no touching in public, which he would never do anyway, but unfortunately she meant no touching at all – even in private. Clearly what happened when he touched her face had unsettled her and she was not anxious to repeat it. Unfortunately it was all Trip could think about.
So now it was business as usual between the two of them. Today they sat in their usual section, near the back and as far away from prying eyes as possible. She was reading another one of his books – Catch-22, which she kept saying was most illogical – and he was working on a simulation for upgrading the phase cannons. After the whole ordeal with the Xindi, he knew that weapons systems would be the first to be upgraded, but he had held Enterprise together with nothing but spit and chewing gum for almost a year, and he'd be damned if he didn't have a say in what happened to her.
"Hey, T'Pol," he said, "when you come to a break, could you take a look at this for me? Double check my math?"
She glanced over at him and shook her head reprovingly. "Commander, you are supposed to be on leave."
He shrugged halfheartedly and began to chew on his pen cap. He knew T'Pol hated that. "You know me. I can't ever really get away from Enterprise. I'm tryin' to see if there's a way to up the range on the phase cannons."
T'Pol didn't look up from the book. "Have you considered increasing the amount of the ammunition?"
"Yeah, but won't the extra weight just add to the drag coefficient?" Trip spit the pen cap into his lap. It was difficult to talk with that in his mouth. "I mean, the added momentum'll carry the torpedoes farther, no doubt about that, but with all that additional weight? The two will probably just cancel each other out."
She placed a bookmark in her place and set the book on the seat beside her, leaning forward to examine his calculations. She took the PADD from him and scanned it, then met his gaze. "You do realize, Commander, that while you are here, the refit crew is already doing this to Enterprise. So any calculations that you may make will be pointless."
Trip smiled and shook his head. She was nothing if not direct. "Maybe, but it still feels good to do it. Like I'm actually helpin', even though I'm not there."
She went back to Catch-22, and Trip went back to his calculations. Idly he wondered if Solen would know how to increase the range of phase cannons. It had been a while since he'd seen the Vulcan. After their initial meeting in the mess hall, Solen had all but disappeared. He'd asked T'Pol about it, but he got the feeling that she wasn't telling him the whole truth. If they really were old friends, as she'd insinuated, then why hadn't she tried to contact him while they were both aboard the same transport? Was there something going on that she didn't want him to know about? And why had Solen acted like he had no idea who T'Pol was?
"Have you talked to Solen at all?" he asked, as casually as he could.
Something flickered in T'Pol's eyes and Trip frowned, concerned. But when she looked at him, her face was impassive. "No."
Trip raised his eyebrows. "I thought you two were old friends."
T'Pol shook her head. "I said that his father was a friend of my father's. I did not say that we were friends."
"You're not going to talk to him at all, then?"
She lifted one shoulder in a barely perceptible shrug. "If he passes, I will engage in conversation with him, but I see no need to seek him out." She lifted an eyebrow. "Why do you ask?"
Because apparently I have to. "Just curious." He tossed the PADD on the chair beside him and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Anythin' you wanna talk about?"
She returned her attention to her book. "No."
Trip sighed and leaned back in his seat. God, she was the most frustrating woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.