Archer - December 8, 12:08 am
Jonathan Archer grabbed Erika's hand and brought her to her feet for a passionate kiss. They had spent a night at the opera, not his first choice, or second, or third, but getting the tickets had been a minor win and bringing Erika to the raved performance a major one. How many ways was there to show he cared about her when he was busy for months at a time exploring the immensity of space? A night at the opera, a charmed dessert with champagne, and now the beginning of a night of lovemaking and naked sleeping.
She stripped the clothes off him with the same ravenous hunger she had shown for dessert and within minutes they were on the queen-sized bed. He laid on top of her, his erection firm between them. Soon, he was inside her, fighting the urge to go fast and hard after so many months in space, but instead forcing himself into a slow rhythm, long strokes that let him savor every inch of her.
In the deserted living room, under their shirts and other varied apparel, his communicator vibrated. The emergency routine dictated that the commanding officer be contacted first. When no response came, the communicator increased the tempo and strength of its call, unaware it was being drowned out by the noises coming from the other room. After the third try, the communicator silently flashed the blinking orange of a serious alert.
The emergency routine went to the next contact on the list, stopping for a second on the second officer as an algorithm returned that the subject of an alert could not be contacted about the alert. The third officer was likewise eliminated because of its relationship status with the subject of the alert. The routine went to to the fourth-ranking officer on active duty.
xxx
Agent Ta'Raik - December 8, 12:09 am
Sublieutenant Ta'raik heard the double-chime indicative of a security alert. She got up from her meditation pad and carefully read the message, noting the time, sender, and subject matter. She logged onto the departmental mission database and entered the information, initiating program Phelt1404.
It would alert her superiors to her mission, log the details of yet another alien bashing. Vulcan was keenly tracking statistics since the ugliness following the Xindi attack. This would be the four thousand and thirty-eighth such event. Vulcan always prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, using her reports as the backbone of the procedure.
She went back to her meditation pad. Phelt1404 would comb through the intercity databases until it found the hospital treating the victim. She needed to be fully alert when it did.
xxx
Phlox - December 8, 12:10 am
The clattering of the communicator against the hard countertop cut through his concentration. Phlox looked up from the medical journal he was reading and quickly got out of bed before the noise woke up Elizabeth. He had forgotten to take the communicator with him, he rarely used it anyway.
He fumbled with it, managed to open the channel before the thing got too loud. Elizabeth was gently snoring in their bed. She still refused to become his fourth wife but he was confident that given enough time she would see the benefit of a multi-marriage community.
The message of that popped on the screen took away any further thought of conjugal bliss. He dressed up in a hurry, even though he had no idea where they had taken her. He would wait by the transporter pod until he got the information.
xxx
T'Pol - December 8, 2:24 am
She couldn't bring the synaptic storm under control, not without meditating. An inconvenient side effect of the damage to her neural pathways. To meditate, she needed a quiet room and a candle. Instead, she was on a biobed in the alien section of the city's largest hospital, where the police cruiser had dropped her off.
She had expected to convince the medical staff she could go as soon as they treated her superficial wounds but that hope had been dashed when she found herself unable to take a step forward after getting out of the police cruiser. Before she had a chance to control the pain, a robot-controlled segchair had appeared and she was whisked into the alien section of the emergency room.
It was meant to make aliens more comfortable than the medical emergency environment Humans took for granted. And it was not very successful at it. The room was still uncomfortably cold and noisy, the light too low for her eyes, the sounds painfully harsh to her ears.
At least they knew enough to give her a private room and leave her by herself. Her synaptic system was raging on, every beep goading her to get up, tear the wires off and walk out before they could kill her. Her muscles twitched with the excess stress hormone, her rational mind struggling to stay still while her limbic mind screamed danger. She needed novopraline.
"I am with the Interspecies Medical Exchange and this gives me the right to practice in all alien emergency rooms!" The exclamation reached her through closed doors. T'Pol's logical mind noted that she was experiencing auditory hallucinations. Those were not a common occurrence during a synaptic storm. She would talk to Dr. Phlox about it.
Unfortunately, the crisis was acute enough that the hallucinations were visual as well. She stared at the apparition at the door, part of her mind howling that he had come to kill her. Her jaw clenched with the tension.
Phlox was looking at the monitors above the bed. "Her isortimol levels are dangerously elevated! Where's the Vulcan healer?!" He turned to his back, talked to someone in the corridor.
T'Pol carefully weighed the possibility he might be real, in spite of the synaptic warnings that his reference to a Vulcan healer confirmed he was an apparition. He suddenly disappeared from her sight and her synaptic mind ranted it was right, he had been an apparition. A nip at her neck almost launched her out of the biobed to attack but the restraints kept her in place.
"There, there." Phlox patted her shoulder. "I gave you a shot of novopraline." Her synaptic mind raved that he was reading her thoughts. Helped by he novopraline, her logical mind concluded that the doctor had moved to the side where her eye was swollen shut, that he had followed customary treatment for tension headaches.
She turned her head slightly to check and he was still there. Phlox smiled. "Glad you're back with us. The healer is on his way." He frowned as he looked over her black eye. "You know, I have an Illurian octopus who could take the swelling out in a couple of days. If you want I can bring it down."
"I think not." T'Pol closed her eyes, bringing her head back to center. The tension headache was mercifully receding.
Phlox inclined his head to the right and to the left. He could understand she was not in the right frame of mind. He would ask again when they were back on Enterprise.
xxx
Phlox - December 8, 3:12 am
The healer had arrived right on his heels and the two of them had briefly discussed the patient's injuries, none life-threatening. The split orbital ridge had been sewn up, the bruised kidney had stopped leaking blood, it would take a few days for things to heal, but heal they would.
The healer walked to the head of the biobed and started guiding her into a medical trance. Phlox surveyed the progress on the monitor screens, able to tell that the synaptic system was slowly brought back under control as the isortimol benchmark inched its way down, a millimeter at a time.
A discrete throat-clearing sound made him turn around. A young Vulcan female was standing inside the open-door room. She reminded him somewhat of T'Pol the first time he had seen her. Phlox saw the insignia of the Vulcan security corps.
"Yes?" he inquired.
"I am Agent Ta'raik." The female responded. "As part of my investigation, I need to interview the victim directly."
"T'Pol", Phlox hated the impersonal reference to 'the victim', "is in a healing trance right now." He nodded towards the healer just in case she hadn't seen him.
"I need to investigate directly with the victim." Ta'raik repeated.
Phlox sighed. Obviously, this would take longer than it should. Before he could try to reason with the woman the Vulcan healer's voice caught both their attention. "She's in a healing trance." Phlox nodded vigorously in assent.
"She can be awakened to answer questions." The detective countered.
"She is my patient, she is in a healing trance and she is not to be disturbed for another three point seven hours." The healer's tone hadn't changed yet Phlox knew he was not pleased. He leaned slightly back on his heels, thrilled to be witnessing a live Vulcan disagreement.
Ta'raik's jaw moved imperceptibly and Phlox realized from all his years with T'Pol that she was going to be obstinate about it. She really reminded him of a younger T'Pol. At least, T'Pol had been flexible enough to adapt, though she was still as stubborn as ever. He somehow doubted that the same could be said for Agent Ta'Raik.
xxx
Trip - December 8, 7:37 am
Trip looked once again at the comclock before giving up any thought of further sleep. He had expected T'Pol would be flying overnight to come to his parents' home, she should be landing in a few minutes, and yet she hadn't confirmed the flight with him. That was highly unusual, for a Vulcan and for her. If anything, she usually gave him a spreadsheet of the flight path and where she would be on a minute-by-minute basis. He suspected she did it partly because his reaction amused her. So her not contacting him with that information was very unusual.
He looked at his communicator again. No message. Coffee was on his mind. He needed to finish waking up, figure out where she was, and then go back to sleep.
His mother was already at the kitchen counter. Why was she up so early? "I was thinking about Elizabeth." She answered his unspoken question. Trip nodded, a lump in his throat. The pain would never quite go away.
Before he could comment or reply, he heard the call of his communicator. Of course, the device was not in his hand and he started looking feverishly around until he located it, next to the coffee pot. T'Pol's handle flashed on the screen. "Hey, honey! Are you at the shuttleport?" But it wasn't T'Pol.
His mother watched her son's back straighten, his face tense. Trip was mostly silent, uttering non-committals "I see" and "of course". Soon, he flipped the communicator shut, turned to her. His face was closed.
"Trip, what is it?" She knew that face since he was a kid, something had happened. What did that woman do now? She had never said anything, but she was not particularly fond of the Vulcan.
"I've got to go, mom. I'll be on the next shuttle out." He turned away from her, mechanically putting what he had taken out for his coffee back in the cupboards.
"Trip! What's going on?!"
"T'Pol. She's in the hospital. She's been attacked. Alien bashing." He looked at her flatly and she realized he had always known about her dislike of his wife being an alien.
She couldn't help it. Aliens had taken her daughter from her, and an alien had taken her son as well. As beautiful as T'Pol was, it was an alien beauty. She could never look at her and see anything other than an alien. If they ever had kids, her grandchildren would be little aliens, they would never be her grandkids.
"But she'll be okay?" More than anything at that moment she wanted the woman to be okay, because then she could repair the damage to the relationship. But if T'Pol died, she would lose her son as well. All of a sudden it didn't matter that she was an alien.
"She'll be released in the morning." He nodded, then looked around at the kitchen, the two of them. "I've got to go."
"I'm glad she'll be allright." His mother took her son's face in her hands. "And Trip, listen to me. I AM glad. And I AM sorry. And I DO hope she can make it here and visit with us. I will make sure she knows she is welcomed."
xxx
T'Pol - December 8, 8:16 am
"You called my husband?!" The victim half-raised herself from the biobed.
Agent Ta'Raik instinctively looked around for something that could serve as a defensive weapon. It was only logical that she would call the victim's mate to relate the events of the night. A part of her wondered whether the victim had become corrupted by her closeness to Humans and their open tendency to yield to their feelings and pleasure. The victim was hardly middle-aged and yet she had already spent a quarter of a century in close proximity to Human debauchery.
"One's mate is the first person to be contacted in case of emergency." Ta'Raik almost cited the volume and number but the victim's file indicated she was once V'Shar, she would know the regulation.
"This is not an emergency. I am being discharged." The victim laid back on the biobed, looking at the ceiling, her tone indicative that she was displeased.
The victim's displeasure was irrational. Her file did not indicate any estrangement from her husband. To resent his being alerted to the assault was most illogical. Ta'Raik made a memory note that the victim's state of mind reflected a possible concussion or other mental impact. Given the victim's possible mental injury, Ta'Raik felt it would be appropriate to state the obvious. "We are in the emergency room."
If Ta'Raik had been Human, she would have qualified the stare she received in return as 'decidedly unfriendly'. She was not Human and therefore she had no reaction to the stare but thought it would be an appropriate time to leave.
Finding the attackers would not take long. She would contact the police officers who had intervened, even the inefficient Humans filed these reports within 24 hours. Vulcan security would conduct its own investigation and she would discreetly guide the Humans to the attackers. One of whom was currently in need of orthopedic intervention. It would take a couple of days at the most.
xxx
Police Officer Glicko - December 8, 10:12 am
The first thing he did was set his coffee cup on a post-it note at a 90 degree angle from the computer entry pod, the handle on the left, where he could easily grab it as he struggled with writing the incident report. He and Hughes had flipped a coin on it and he'd lost. That was the second time this week. It didn't make writing the report any easier. He frowned as he carefully spelled out each word.
Soon he was looking up from the screen. "Hey, Hughes!" He called across the room. "How do you spell Xindi?"
"Incident report: On or about midnight on December 7, Officers Glicko and Hughes were dispatched to the 3100 block of N. Wood Avenue for a disturbance. Upon arrival, they made contact with the victim, T'Pol Tucker, who was suffering from a head wound, and Peter Kristofferson, who stated he had called the police. The victim confirmed that he had come to her assistance and offered her his coat and reported that four men attacked her when she told them she was a Vulcan. Officers were unable to locate the men. Victim's wounds were not life-threatening and officers drove her to the Interspecies Medical Exchange ER. Investigation is under way to locate and apprehend the attackers. Since the attackers referred to the Kasindi and the victim being an alien before the attack, the incident is being investigated as a hate crime. A general request for information has been issued."
Glicko pushed back from his desk, almost sweating. Peter Kristofferson was a person of potential interest until they confirmed he'd had nothing to do with it. They'd be calling on him. That poor guy would never see his coat back. And forget about any kind of thanks. He'd worked with Vulcans before. No feelings at all. None. Good workers but not his type. No, not his type at all. He'd much rather stick to his own kind.
xxx
Trip - December 8, 2:14 pm
He wished he hadn't been on vacation, he'd be there already. He'd told his mom he would come back with T'Pol, but that was only if there'd be enough time and if T'Pol wanted to. Right now, all he wanted was to be with her. Trip nodded at the ensign manning the transporter room.
Their quarters were dark, all lights out. Phlox had caught up with him, told him about the injuries, how long healing would take. He called the lights to a gentle glow. He couldn't tell if she was awake or in a healing trance.
He quietly walked to the foot of the bed, looked at her. She was sleeping on her side. He laid down next to her, careful not to jostle the bed, unsure whether it was okay to touch her. Finally, he laid a hand on her arm. The bond instantly came to life and he knew with a sense of deep relief that she wasn't condemning him for being Human, for being the same as those who attacked her. He wrapped his arms around her and just laid there, holding her.
She talked first. "There is no reason for you to be sorry."
He knew she'd say that. Her Vulcan mind could not connect what was not connected. The attackers were not him. He hadn't done anything but love her.
But they were connected. That's why he had told Archer not to worry about missing the emergency call. For what had Archer done, except have a life, love someone, be Human?
xxx