Chapter Seven – Of Family and Familiarity
Archer rolled his shoulders in his uniform. He was a couple of hours later than he'd intended to be; a pesky malfunction had come up in Engineering, and he had decided not to bother Trip about it, especially today. Trip was, without question, a wunderkind with the engines, but the captain considered himself to be fairly handy when it came to basic warp theory. He paused before the door to Trip and T'Pol's quarters and rang the bell.
The door opened immediately. Archer noticed right away that Trip was dead to the world, sprawled, fully dressed, across the bed. T'Pol had obviously been relaxing and reading, clad unself-consciously in her blue pajamas. The cabin was quiet.
"Hey," Archer said in a hushed voice. "How's everybody doing?"
"There is no need to whisper, Captain," T'Pol said quietly. "Trip will not wake unless the warp reactor vibrates incorrectly."
Archer chuckled. "And how are you?"
"I am recovering well." She walked to the desk and placed the book down. "Would you like to hold him?"
"Oh, I don't want to wake him up; I just came by to say congratulations."
"He is not asleep." She stepped over to the tiny bed situated underneath the window and motioned the captain over. Archer glanced down, startled to find the hours-old infant staring calmly up at him.
No crying he makes, came the random thought. Receiving a nod to his, "May I?", Archer reached down and gently scooped up the blanket-wrapped bundle. "Hello, Lorian," he said in a soft, rumbling voice. "I'm your Uncle Jon."
Archer had encountered few infants in his lifetime, most of them aboard Enterprise just in the last eighteen months. Human babies, he had discovered, were usually puckered and red-faced, peering at the world with perplexed expressions, trying to figure out how everything could change so completely so fast. Not Lorian, this Vulcan/human wonder of the universe. He gazed up at Archer with dark eyes, steadily, as if he already had the man's number and was waiting for an explanation.
Lorian had Trip's ski-jump nose, and, as expected, T'Pol's delicately pointed ears. He seemed to weigh nothing at all. "He's beautiful," Archer commented, and was surprised when T'Pol answered, "Yes, he is."
Archer let out the mental breath he'd been holding for the better part of a year. Not long after her miscarriage, T'Pol had come down with some Vulcan condition – not contagious, Phlox had assured him – and she and Trip had been quarantined in their quarters for about a week, completely incommunicado. Apparently, it hadn't been life-threatening, although Trip had looked a little worse for wear for several days afterward. And a few weeks later, T'Pol had announced quietly that they were expecting again. Archer would never have admitted it, not even under Xindi torture, but he had been on tenterhooks these past several months, hoping for a more joyful resolution this time. T'Pol had had an uneventful, if closely monitored, pregnancy, and the result rested here in his cupped hands.
"He's healthy?" Archer asked, sitting down gingerly on the one chair in the room.
"Phlox says that he is within normal parameters for either a Vulcan or human newborn," T'Pol replied. "Trip made a point of examining the baby's fingers and toes. Apparently, they are all present and accounted for."
Archer studied Lorian for a long moment, drawn in by those midnight blue eyes that seemed to focus and follow his face. He felt a pang of regret, quickly subdued, and covered it by saying, "I'm very happy for you and Trip." He lifted the baby until he was eye to eye. "You've got a terrific set of parents, Lorian. Make sure you drive them crazy." He stood and handed the baby back to his mother. "I'll go so you can get some rest. Let me know if you need anything, T'Pol."
"Don't forget we are scheduled to rendezvous with the Almarian freighter in two days." She sounded her normal schoolmarmish self.
"You're on leave. Malcolm, Hoshi, and I will handle it." He headed for the door.
"I believe I can be of assistance to you in negotiating the terms."
Archer turned, half in, half out of the doorway. "I said you're on leave, that's an order. Mom." He grinned at her and let the door slide shut on her skeptical expression.
x x x
"Remind me not to trade with Almarians anymore," Archer muttered out of the corner of his mouth as he, Reed, and Sato stared down the barrels of five fierce-looking phase rifles. Reed let his eyes roam the small, dank room they occupied for any point of escape. There was none; even if they could rush the scaly aliens and fight their way out, there was no way they could make it back to their shuttle pod without being blasted to atoms. Before them, on the scarred, chipped table, four cases sat open, filled with trellium-D, the most valuable resource Enterprise could trade. Fortunately for them, just about every merchant they had come across had a need for the mineral as protection from the Expanse anomalies. It was easy enough to mine, with Enterprise's powerful phase cannons.
The head trader, bearing a name that none of the three humans, not even Hoshi, could wrap their mouths around (so they just called him "X"), abruptly left the room, ostensibly to test the quality of the trellium. Hoshi paraphrased his parting words into a semi-threatening, "This had better be pure," rather than the more menacing literal translation which referenced Archer's distant ancestors and the concept of disembowelment. She didn't see the need to escalate Reed's tension any further.
"Are you sure the Ikaarans said these people were trustworthy?" Reed asked the captain, measuring the distance from the table to the only door with his eyes. "I don't recall anything about rifles being pointed at our heads."
Archer rolled his eyes and spoke without moving his mouth. "Captain Leev-Sran said they were a little suspicious." Most of the traders recommended by the Ikaarans had been businesslike and moderately friendly. Following the trade map the Ikaarans had left with them, the humans had encountered dozens of different species over the past year. As their original rations ran low, the heavily trafficked trade routes became their lifeline.
"Perhaps 'suspicious' and 'homicidal' are the same word in Ikaaran," Reed commented.
"Maybe we could sweeten the deal with some hooch," Hoshi suggested, referring to the ridiculously potent alcohol concocted by the Engineering and Exobiology teams in the makeshift still Archer had pretended not to know about for the first three years of the mission. The captain had tried it once out of curiosity, and had experienced an almost instant intoxication, then spent two days in Sickbay. The beverage's kick dwarfed that of Andorian ale, and it usually fetched as high a price as the trellium, for beings who went for that sort of thing.
"We'll keep that as our ace in the hole," Archer replied softly.
"Really. I wouldn't wish to deal with these blokes when they're hung over," Reed added. The door opened, and he tensed, his hand moving to the empty spot where his phase pistol would have hung had it not been confiscated at the beginning of the negotiations. X re-entered the room, carrying a chunk of trellium and a scanner.
The rock hit the table with a dull thud. Archer kept his eyes firmly on the trader, rehearsing in his mind the three ways he could use to get Hoshi out of the line of fire if things got ugly. But, speaking of ugly, X's face split into a semblance of a grin. "I've rarely seen trellium of this purity," he growled. "I agree to your price."
Archer allowed himself a slight smile. They weren't out of the woods yet. He wouldn't relax until they had all of the cargo onboard and were heading out of the orbit of this trading station.
"How much for the woman?" X continued, raking Hoshi up and down with his red eyes.
Reed stiffened; Hoshi, to her credit, didn't react. Archer appraised his Communications Officer with a squinted eye. "Oh, I wouldn't part with her for anything less than a complete reactor core. New. But I don't need one right now," he added, "so, nope, not interested."
X glared at him for a full minute; Archer glared back, hoping the alien didn't notice the beads of sweat gathering at his hairline. Finally, the Almarian relented. "You're wasting my valuable time, then." He sent the scanner spinning across the table with a flick of his finger. "Here are the coordinates for your cargo. Get out." As one, the five guards lowered their rifles and left the room.
"Our weapons," Archer reminded X mildly. The Almarian pointed a controller at a small door on the wall, which opened to reveal the three phase pistols. Without a word, he spun and left.
The security officer let out a breath and retrieved the pistols. Hoshi turned to the captain with a mock-severe look. "Only a reactor core, sir? What if he'd insisted on that deal?"
"Then I would have ripped his head off," the captain said, opening his communicator to convey the cargo coordinates to the transporter technician. Once delivery of the inventory had been confirmed, he headed toward the door, then stopped, looking a little nervous. "Let's not tell T'Pol about being held at gunpoint, okay?"
They struggled across the densely packed trading floor, jostling their way through the crowd, when Archer stopped abruptly, the hair at the back of his neck rising. He lifted his eyes and glanced around, seeking the source. He almost missed her in the tangle of beings, but there, by the entrance, stood Esilia, black eyes enormous in her pale face, watching him.
He knew he was staring, but he couldn't help himself. Her hair was more white than silver now, bound in a long braid down her back. She was dressed in a rich, red silk-like outfit, a one-piece suit similar to the type that T'Pol favored, except that it was form fitting up top but loose and flowing in the legs. He found it very sexy. He noticed with some alarm that she was armed.
She met them outside in the vast field where shuttle pods and other small ships were haphazardly deposited by customers. Hoshi got a delighted hug, Reed a businesslike handshake, but she didn't touch Archer. He found himself a little disappointed by that.
"Hello, Esilia," he greeted her.
"Captain," she said, her voice friendly but not intimate, "it is pleasant to see you again."
"Quite a surprise to meet up with you here," he ventured.
She gave a small smile. "Actually, I have been hoping to come across your warp signature for some time now. I have something for you that you might find interesting."
Archer's mind darted back to the Ikaaran database, and skimmed frantically through all he had read. Recalling the parts he had concentrated his research on, he pinned an answering smile on his face even as the plea echoed inside his brain. Please, oh please, oh please, don't tell me there's a Jonathan Junior . . .
x x x
"Bridge to T'Pol."
In her quarters, T'Pol stopped her pacing, glancing down to check if Lorian had finally fallen asleep in the fabric sling draped across her left shoulder. He had. "Yes."
"Pod One is approaching. All three human bio-signs areaboard."
"Thank you."
"And there's another ship, as well." A pause. "It's the Ikaaran scout ship. They're both headed for the launch bay."
Interesting. "I'm on my way."
Any surprise she felt at seeing Esilia emerge from the little ship was hidden behind her placid Vulcan features. The Ikaaran had no such restraint. Upon seeing the baby's head peeking out from the sling, she immediately approached with familiarity and delight. Archer followed slowly behind her, leaving Reed to power down the shuttle pod and perform the post-flight inspection. The captain kept a noticeable distance between himself and the Ikaaran, T'Pol noticed, and Esilia seemed determined not to look his way unless absolutely necessary.
"I've invited Esilia to visit Enterprise for a while," Archer said, daring T'Pol to make a comment. She didn't. "She has some technology she'd like to share with Trip. A little thank-you from the Ikaarans for our help with the Tanaar last year."
"I will inform Commander Tucker," T'Pol replied impassively. "Perhaps Ensign Sato can escort our guest to her quarters."
"Oh, absolutely," Hoshi agreed enthusiastically, linking arms with Esilia like the two were long-lost girlfriends. "We have a ton of stuff to catch up on." The three women left without a backward glance. Archer got the uncomfortable, if paranoid, feeling that he would be the subject of much of that conversation.
x x x
"So, how long's she staying?" Trip asked casually, reaching for a micro-spanner. His voice was muffled, since he was lying on his back, knees bent, with his face inserted into the tiny space underneath the Situation Console at the rear of the Bridge. It was a passive-aggressive move, typical of Trip's non-confrontational Southern upbringing. Archer could avoid answering the question simply by acting as if he hadn't heard it.
"I don't know," the captain answered, "I haven't asked her. Indefinitely, I guess."
"You think that's wise? Leaving it open-ended like that?" Trip rested his ankle on his opposite knee, and jiggled his foot, perfectly comfortable, as if his head were not centimeters away from a zillion-watt power source.
"I don't know what I think,"Archer admitted. "This yellow light's blinking. Isn't that bad?"
"Ignore it." A hand extended from underneath the console. "Pass me the thing?" Archer eyed the tools spread out on the floor and picked up a coil aligner. "Thanks," Trip said, and continued, "Hess and I took a look at those schematics Esilia brought back. Those upgrades could boost our fuel efficency by twenty, twenty-five percent. Some of those components though, not only have I never seen them before, but I wouldn't know how to start building them."
An alarm began to beep, and the readout on top of the console blinked. Archer squelched the urge to take a giant step back. "Uh, Trip. . . "
"Yeah, don't worry about it, I've almost got it." The beeping stopped, and Trip scooted out from underneath the console on his butt. Standing, shaking out his legs, he pushed a few buttons and smiled. "Good as new."
"You think you need Esilia here to help you integrate them?" Archer busied himself by resetting the functions on the console.
Trip wasn't fooled for one second. He had Archer's complete attention, although the captain's body language suggested otherwise. Right now, he didn't know if he was dealing with his best friend or his commanding officer. He decided to stick with a line drive down the middle. "Look, Cap'n, it's up to you whether you ask her to stay or not. I'm just saying, as your Chief Engineer, that those upgrades look good on paper, but I have no idea how to put them into practice. She's got some engineering experience, enough to start us off on the right track, anyway. Besides, she's a helluva pilot, and she's been flying in this space for who knows how long. She might be a useful permanent addition to the crew."
Archer rested his hands on the console and leaned on them. "She's an alien."
"So's T'Pol."
"That's different."
"How? And don't give me anything about how Vulcans are so trustworthy, because we both know that's crap." Archer snapped his head up, surprised to hear Trip mention the Vulcans with such derision. "The Vulcans always had their own agenda, even when they were 'guiding' us. And I've lost track of how many times the Andorians double crossed us. But Shran also helped us out, and without T'Pol, we would have been dust a long time ago, even though you never would have brought her aboard if you hadn't been forced to. You trust both of them."
"That doesn't mean I can trust Esilia."
"Doesn't mean you can't." Almost off-handedly, Trip added, "Cap'n, I'm the last person to criticize you for being attracted to an alien woman."
Archer opened and shut his mouth twice before he growled, "That's not what this is about, at all."
That was so not a denial. Trip filed that away. "Then take a look at the schematics, and figure out what's best for the ship."