The Cultural Addition
a
Star Trek: Enterprise - based fan fiction
by: Joycelyn Solo

~~~~~~~~~~~~
Summary: An unexpected pregnancy has some interesting consequences for Trip, T'Pol, the Enterprise and the future of Humanity.
Author's note: This story takes place Season Three, so expect general episodic references. Though I loved "Similitude," it doesn't fit with this story's progression of our favorite couple's romance and will be ignored.
Disclaimer: Star Trek: Enterprise and associated characters are property of Paramount Pictures. I mean no copyright infringement, this story is for entertainment purposes only.
Special Thanks: To Stub, my patient beta.
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Trip/T'Pol Romance; Mystery

Chapter Two - Not all minds that wander are lost

It was not like Vulcans to dwell on things.

Then again, it was not like Vulcans to allow their minds to wander to inappropriate places over the breakfast table, either.

She had managed to relegate the incident to the back of her mind for consideration later. Fortunately for her, she did not have further contact with the focal point of her wandering mind for the remainder of the day.

Twenty hours later, however, it was time to analyze the event, trace its root cause and file it away in the organized recess of her mind.

Seated on the floor of her quarters, T'Pol attempted once again to center herself, focusing on the flame that danced above her candle. As part of her morning ritual, she was accustomed to rising early -- relying on her internal clock -- and meditating before her duty shift.

This morning should have been no different.

T'Pol woke at her usual time, arranging the blanket and pillow neatly on her small bunk. She lit a candle and kneeled on the mat. She took a deep breath, inhaling through her nose and out again. As she continued the deep, meditative breathing, she closed her eyes...

And was assaulted once more with the mental image of Commander Tucker in his naked glory.

She had never actually seen the Commander "in the buff" -- a term she once heard him use. However, T'Pol had seen enough of him to paint a realistic picture for her mind's eye.

Of course, the question was not where her mind contrived the image, but why?

She acknowledged that Commander Tucker was a fine specimen of physical fitness, but that was true of most the male crewmen. Good health and regular exercise were required of all Enterprise hands.

That did not mean that T'Pol imagined any of them naked.

Then, again, none of them had blue eyes as deep as Charles Tucker's. Even she could not deny how their blue depths reminded her of Earth's oceans. How those eyes sparkled when he teased her, how his mouth curved at the corners --

She shook her head in an illogical attempt to halt her mind's downward spiral to its favorite conclusion.

Finding any attempt to concentrate a futile effort, T'Pol blew out the candle -- perhaps with more force than needed to extinguish the small flame -- and proceeded to ready herself for the day.

She dressed in one of the colorful suits she had adopted into her wardrobe since resigning her commission to the Vulcan High Command. It was a small act of rebellion on her part, one no other Vulcan would understand, but the sight of the soft-blue velour as she removed it from the closet was a reminder of her independence from a body that for too long controlled her actions, both personal and professional.

While fastening the suit, T'Pol could not help but notice that the material seemed to exhibit a tighter fit across her abdomen. To say she was surprised would -- well, insult her Vulcan sensibilities, but it would also -- be an understatement. Not only did she adhere to a strict physical routine to maintain her health and fitness, but she had actually experienced less of an appetite in the last week. She had contributed her apathy toward food as stress, but perhaps all her symptoms -- though seemingly unrelated -- could indeed be an indication of a larger problem.

With a sinking feeling, T'Pol accepted that the lost of mental control -- both the "mind wandering" and inability to manage her own metabolism -- could only mean one thing. It was obvious that Phlox's treatments of the Pa'nar Syndrome had lost their effectiveness.

Though she knew this day would come, T'Pol could not say that she was ready for it. She had resigned herself to the fact that too little was known of the disease for a cure to be found in her lifetime. She had hoped -- illogically -- that the doctor's treatments would ward off the effects for the time being, but it seemed that time was already gone.

Already unfocused from the lack of proper meditation, and faced with the harsh reality of her mortality, T'Pol managed with no small amount of effort to compose herself enough for the walk from her quarters to Sickbay.

No matter what the doctor's prognosis, she was determined to be Vulcan to the last.

~ ~ ~

When T'Pol entered Sickbay, Phlox only needed one look at her drawn features to know what had brought her to the Enterprise medical facility so early in the morning.

Pa'nar Syndrome.

Though he had been successful in treating T'Pol's symptoms, Phlox was far from developing a cure to the oft-debilitating Vulcan disease. As the sub-commander described her symptoms, Phlox could not help his growing apprehension. If the treatments were no longer helping, it could indicate that the disease had evolved past his ability to help.

But when he performed a scan to determine the extent of the disease's damage, his anxiety turned to a different feeling.

Complete bafflement.

Examining the readouts, Phlox did not find any indication of advanced Pa'nar or any other unusual activity in the Vulcan's brain. Broadening his search, he enjoyed a small amount of relief when he found another plausible cause...

That quickly brought on its own set of questions.

"What have you found, Doctor?" T'Pol asked, sitting up on the biobed as Phlox continued to digest the scan's results.

Rather than answer straight, Phlox leaned against a nearby cupboard, his hands crossed in front of him, in as relaxed a posture as he could manage. "How are the neuropressure sessions with Commander Tucker progressing?"

If T'Pol thought the question odd, she hid it well as she responded. "Commander Tucker is returning to normal sleep patterns and seems to be resuming interaction with the rest of the crew."

"And have you experienced any...ah...benefits?"

"What do you mean?"

"Have you and Commander Tucker been intimate?"

Had she been any other member of the crew, Phlox would have been less abrupt with his question, but he knew T'Pol would prefer a more straight-forward approach. Vulcans did not dally over unnecessary details.

As much as she may have appreciated his getting to the point, T'Pol could not help the way her spine stiffened in response. "I fail to see where that issue has relevance with the advanced stages of Pa'nar Syndrome."

"I do not believe your symptoms have anything to do with Pa'nar, Sub-Commander. However, even if you had been intimate, it does not explain my readings."

"And what, exactly, are your readings?"

Breaking his usual protocol, Phlox handed a copy of the scan readout to T'Pol. "As you can see from the initial scan, there is no indication of additional Pa'nar-infected areas. However," He touched the PADD to advance to the next scan, "Here you can see something very unusual."

No amount of Vulcan training could have prevented the way T'Pol's eyes widened as she viewed the display. "A fetus." She said, near-choking on the word as she strove to retain some scientific detachment. "But there are no Vulcans on board and, even if there were, I have not been physically intimate with anyone."

"And that is where the real mystery comes in." He pointed to the readings taken of the scan. "This fetus is half-Human. And, if I am not mistaken, that half belongs to Commander Tucker."

"The Commander and I have not..."

"Even if you had, there are still many questions to be answered. However, both you and Commander Tucker were in here just over a month ago for an extensive examination. His medical record is still keyed into the computer's memory. He is a match for the Human genes."

~ ~ ~

There were some mornings Trip Tucker was convinced he never should have gotten out of bed.

After being roused from a restful -- thanks to T'Pol and the neuropressure -- sleep by the incessant beeping of intership communications, he'd dressed hastily and joined the Vulcan sub-commander and Denobulan doctor in Sickbay.

Still sleep-addled, it hadn't occurred to him what could possibly be so urgent first thing in the morning. Nor did he think to ask if it could wait until he'd at least had breakfast.

His stomach growling and his hair still damp from a hasty shower, he should have known the sight of T'Pol and the Phlox -- both looking decidedly uncomfortable -- should have sent him running back back to his quarters to hide.

Probably because he was still half-asleep, he took the news surprisingly well. At least, compared to the last time he found out he was going to be a father -- er, mother -- or, hell, he never did figure out which one he was.

Not that it mattered now. That was two years ago and an incident he tried very hard to forget.

At that moment, however, the unrealism of that situation was brought back to him again as he registered what Phlox was saying.

T'Pol was pregnant.

With his child.

He didn't remember doing anything that could have possibly ended in this result. Then again, he didn't remember doing anything with Ah'len, either, and he had gotten himself pregnant.

So, okay, he guessed it was possible to have impregnated T'Pol without being aware of it, but, as far as he knew, Vulcan and Humans did the deed in a pretty similar fashion. Except for that whole seven-year thing; Humans did it much more frequently if they could.

As the silence stretched on, Trip realized Phlox and T'Pol were waiting for him to say something. What, he didn't know, but they were both expectant.

And it hit him again that T'Pol was expecting.

"I don't understand." Trip looked up them -- realizing, for the first time, that he must have sat down on the stool Phlox provided. "I mean, we never...At least, I don't think we ever...How did this happen?"

"The matter of 'how' is still in question." Phlox answered, a slight shrug of his shoulders accentuating his confusion.

Trip shook his head, attempting to clear it and bring his thoughts to order. "Do Vulcans and Humans...I mean, is it even..."

"The mating process for Humans and Vulcan is quite similar." Phlox provided. "According to T'Pol, however, the two of you have not been intimate. And, frankly, if you had it would still not explain her current condition. Though Humans and Vulcans are alike in many ways, it is doubtful a successful pregnancy would result from traditional coupling."

Trip felt a small amount of his tension ease. At least he hadn't done something stupid to land himself in this position -- again. But if they didn't do it...who did?

T'Pol, who had been largely silent during the exchange, must have had the same thought. "I have agreed to further examination by Doctor Phlox. It may help his investigation if you were to do the same."

Trip turned his attention to her. Even though her Vulcan mask of logic was firmly in place, he couldn't help but notice that she seemed smaller than usual, more fragile. T'Pol was the strongest woman he knew. She irritated the heck out of him, but he respected her. He'd never seen her look so unsure of herself.

Vulnerable.

Even if he wasn't going to stick around for testing -- a task he didn't look forward to -- there was no way he was going to leave her alone. And, if Phlox's findings were true, the two of them were in it together.

"Yeah," he finally said. "I'll stay."

~~~