4. The Transfer Request
When he got his first officer and his chief engineer back from Vulcan, they didn't really look any better than when they'd left. They buried themselves in work — not an easy task, when the ship had already spent quite some time in spacedock, but Trip seemed to be doing better at it than T'Pol. Archer supposed that was to be expected; on a ship of exploration that wasn't doing any active exploring, the science department was probably unavoidably slow. As a result, T'Pol seemed to spend a lot of time alone in her quarters, meditating.
Archer wasn't sure that was entirely healthy. So, he made an effort to draw her out.
"You wished to see me, Captain?" T'Pol stepped through the door into his ready room and stood just inside. The door slid shut behind her.
"I have a request from a couple of crewmen from the Annie Cannon to transfer to Enterprise. I've arranged to speak with them. I'd like to have your input."
"Very well," T'Pol took the seat across the desk.
Archer handed her a PADD. "These are their service records."
T'Pol took the PADD, and scrolled through the records.
Archer turned his display so that he and T'Pol could both see it, and touched a key. "Hoshi, put us through," he said.
On the screen, two young sciences division crew — one male, one female — appeared. "Ensign Souris, Lieutenant Marks," he said, "I'm Captain Archer, and this is my first officer, Commander T'Pol."
Marks said "Hello, Captain," in a very collected manner, but Souris goggled at them. Archer wasn't sure whether the ensign was impressed with their status as saviors of the planet, or with the fact that he was face-to-face with a real live Vulcan. Maybe both.
He asked them a few questions, and they seemed intelligent enough, if still a bit green. Unfortunately, at that point, he tried to bring T'Pol in on the interview.
"Commander T'Pol is not just my first officer, she's also my science officer. So, I'm sure she has some questions for the two of you."
T'Pol glanced at him, and then at the two young people on the screen. "Lieutentant Marks, it says here that you have completed a certification in comparative exobiology. Can you tell me how A.E. Hodgkins determined that the termites of Loracus Prime were, in fact, native to that planet and not transplants from another world?"
From that point, the conversation quickly devolved into scientific jargon that Archer could only partially understand. Which troubled him, because the two young crewmen did not seem to be keeping up very well. But he could hardly say, "T'Pol, go easy," after he'd invited her to sit in, and then turned her loose on the two would-be transfers. So T'Pol continued asking what seemed to be increasingly difficult questions, and the two prospective crewmen spent an increasing amount of time exchanging apprehensive looks.
Finally, he took the PADD and typed in the message box, "Don't frighten them away unless that's what you mean to do" and handed it back to T'Pol.
She read the message, arched an eyebrow at him, and said "Thank you, Lieutenant, Ensign. I believe Captain Archer has some additional questions he would like to ask."
"I think we're about done," Archer said, smiling in what he hoped was a reassuring way. "I guess you've probably got a pretty good idea at this point who you'd be working for," he said, with a slight laugh. The two young crewmen responded with uncomfortable laughter of their own. "Is there anything you'd like to ask me?"
Souris glanced at Marks, who shook her head at him. "No, Captain, thank you for talking with us."
"Are you sure?" Archer said. There was something they wanted to ask — or at least, that Souris wanted to ask that Marks didn't.
"Jerri," the young man said, imploringly — an oddly familiar way for him to address her, Archer thought.
She shot him a quelling look, and then said "Captain, we'd really prefer to serve together, if possible."
Judging from the look on Souris' face, that wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for. "I can't promise anything," Archer said, "but it might help if you could tell me why."
"We've served together for three years,"Lieutenant Marks said, "And we work really well together."
As reasons to change ships together went, it was paper-thin. Which meant that probably…"You do know that Starfleet frowns on fraternization within the same chain of command," he guessed.
Marks kept her composure, but Souris' face concealed nothing; he might as well have said aloud, we wanted to stay together because we are together. And his gaze went immediately, transparently, to T'Pol.
Marks apparently decided that at this point, a measure of candor might be their only hope. "Sir, we thought perhaps that you might take a more…liberal view…in such matters."
"I see," Archer said. "Lieutenant, perhaps you should get your information from more reputable sources." Souris looked crestfallen, and even Marks wilted a little bit. "We'll be in touch," Archer said, and killed the transmission.
He sighed, and looked across the desk at T'Pol, who was still looking fixedly at the blank display.
"T'Pol? Is something wrong?"
"No," she said, without looking at him. "If you'll excuse me, Captain."
She stood abruptly and left.
Maybe it was the still-raw wound of losing Elizabeth; maybe it was the weariness of dealing with the gossip. But it bugged him.
What possible reason could there be that T'Pol would not look him in the eye?